#but i finally did it!! nothing but love and respect for MY king & queen of ravka | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruhstories · 2 years

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perfectly imperfect

summary: otto hightower gathers more allies in support of his nephew after the destruction of the dragonpit. y/n reyne, lady of castamere, offers her hand in marriage to aemond targaryen to secure the safety of her land and people.

pairing: aemond targaryen x reyne!fem!reader (aged up)

warnings & content: canon-divergent, graphic descriptions of violence, aegon makes fun of disabilities, aegon is a dick to women, typical asoiaf shenanigans, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity, fem bodied reader

wc: ~3.7k

a/n: listen, i did not plan on simping for aemond, okay? i was actually planning a daemon fic but i got carried away. also, there are NO spoilers for episode 10. i know it got leaked, i haven't watched it yet.

It seemed as if Aegon had won a trophy in Helaena when compared to Aemond's betrothed. He had complained about his sister-wife when he was a child, complained that she wasn't beautiful enough, that she was strange, with her fascination for insects, particularly spiders. Aegon could not fathom why his wife was drawn to such peculiar practices, but part of him was grateful he ended up marrying Helaena and not Y/N Reyne.

Aemond, on the other hand, made no verbal complaints about his soon-to-be wife. He had always obeyed his mother's rules, and he knew his marriage to the Lady of Castamere was nothing but political — an alliance with a powerful and rich family would only benefit in supporting Aegon's claim to the throne. All he had to do was put an heir in Y/N and secure his Targaryen lineage. He didn't have to love her, but he would respect her.

After the destruction of the Dragon Pit, Otto knew he had to act swiftly, asking lords and ladies all around Westeros for their support. It was Y/N Reyne who offered her own hand in marriage in exchange for the protection of her lands and people, and Otto and Alicent agreed. A small price to pay for the riches of Castamere. With her silver and gold, they could fund soldiers for the impending war between the Blacks and the Greens.

Not long after Aegon's coronation, Y/N Reyne travelled to King's Landing for a quick wedding. There was no time for feasts and parties, there was no time for her to get to know her husband — she wanted her people safe, and Otto wanted supporters.

The Lady of Castamere arrived at the Red Keep on horseback with a promised 200 soldiers, chests of gold, silver and rubies. Greeted by the king himself, Y/N bowed down, offering Aegon a dagger encrusted with small rubies on its silver handle.

"It's not Valyrian steel, your grace, but it was made by my finest blacksmiths." She removed the hood of her cloak, exposing a scar that went from her cheek, down her neck, the rest hidden behind her chest plate.

Aegon scrunched his nose at the sight of her scar, but the look of disgust came after she removed her leather gloves, revealing a missing ring finger on her right hand.

"You'll make a fine wife for my brother." The king sneered, and Alicent smiled. Finally, her son was speaking like a true royal. "Seeing as you're both cripples." Aegon laughed, toying with the dagger in his hand, bored and perhaps drunk.

Y/N pursed her lips. It took a lot of willpower not to bark back at him. She had sworn her loyalty to him, after all.

"I see your grace has a sense of humour." The Lady of Castamere smiled, the scar more visible when her cheeks puffed up.

It made Aegon's stomach churn to see a flawed woman. At least Helaena tried to look feminine, dressed in the finest of silks and wearing the most expensive jewellery, like a true queen. Yet Y/N was boyish, wearing metal plates and leather trousers. In the king's mind, she should've been in a carriage, not on a horse. She should've worn a dress, not an armour. She should've let her hair flow, not wear it in a plait.

The silence in the Red Keep was deafening, until Alicent offered to take Y/N to her chambers and Otto ordered Ser Criston Cole to take the westerlands soldiers to the East Barracks. The Lady of Castamere was taken aback when Alicent had asked her about her wedding dress, as Y/N had not brought one.

"I assumed it would be a quick wedding." She shrugged.

"I understand, but the king would not like it if you came to your own wedding wearing... that." Alicent sighed, exhausted by Aegon's shenanigans. "Come, we'll find something in Helaena's chambers."

All of the queen's dresses were beautiful, most of them silver or gold, but they did not fit Y/N. Her frame was quite athletic, as the scar on her skin was won in battle, and she was much taller, making the dresses look like they were tossed on a fence, not worn by a woman.

"My lady, I am truly sorry-"

"No, it's fine." Alicent chewed on her lower lip, an idea creeping in her mind. Y/N could wear one of Rhaenyra's old dresses, preferably one that wasn't black. In a bitter twist of fate, Rhaenyra's clothes did fit Y/N, and it only made Alicent more conflicted about her friendship, about everything that was happening.

It was overwhelming to see her son's future wife wearing her best friend's clothes. In the dusty golden dress and her hair in a braid, Y/N reminded Alicent of the day she had asked Rhaenyra about her and Daemon, a day that changed the course of everyone's lives. Who knew back then that their friendship would turn into animosity?

"My lady? Is something the matter?" Y/N took Alicent's hand in hers.

"No. No, you look perfect. Please, I have one last request." She smiled, but there was so much sadness hidden behind that smile.

"Of course."

"Untie your hair. Let it flow down your back. Just for tonight. After your wedding you may do with it as you please."

It was a strange request, but Y/N did not dare question it. She untied the bow holding her hair in place, running her fingers through her locks. Satisfied, Alicent hurried her out of Rhaenyra's chamber and into the Throne Room, where the king, the queen, the Hand, the High Septon, and Aemond waited.

That was the first time Y/N met her soon-to-be husband, the patch on his eye making him look both mysterious and menacing. She then understood what Aegon meant by cripple. Y/N bowed in front of the king and queen, taking her place to Aemond's right side. The younger Targaryen showed no emotion whatsoever at her presence, instead took her hands in his, listening to the Septon's prayers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband." Y/N uttered her vows, noticing the disinterested look on Aegon's face.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Aemond did not hesitate snaking his fingers behind Y/N's ear, pulling her into a soft kiss, interrupted only by the king's own drunken chuckles, mixed with hiccups.

"You are now man and wife — one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon concluded, followed by dead silence.

Everyone knew what would happen next — consummation. Y/N was clever enough to know that she had to give Aemond an heir, but part of her hoped she would not be with child. She wanted to fight by her husband's side, not stay in the Red Keep or Castamere and raise children. Nevertheless, she was urged by Otto to follow Aemond in his chamber, and she reluctantly did.

To her surprise, her husband gently held her hand on the way up the stairs, and while she has been in battles, lost a finger, and had her face mutilated, the thought of losing her maidenhead made her feel sick. Before her mother died, she had prepared Y/N for the consummation of her marriage — how to seduce her husband, how to please him, what to say, where to touch him. It all seemed easy in theory, but putting it in practice was much, much harder.

There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow, and although she felt cold, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Y/N thought she knew fear, but nothing compared to this. It did not help that Aemond did not utter a single word after speaking his vows, and perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel less anxious. When he began to remove his cloak and unbutton his doublet, Y/N froze.

"Wait." She finally spoke, and Aemond did wait. He wasn't necessarily impatient to consummate his marriage, unlike his brother who would fuck anything that had two legs and a pretty face. "Before we proceed, I have to say this."

"Go on." Aemond neatly folded his cloak, placing it on a wooden chair, the half-unbuttoned doublet exposing his chest.

"I'm a fighter, not a mother. I will gladly give you an heir, if that is what you desire, but I want to fight side by side with you, my lord husband." Y/N hurried to where he stood, stripping herself of her ego by pleading with him.

"Why?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The only other person who shared Aemond's passion for violence was Ser Criston Cole. Not even his brother was seduced by violence, let alone a noblewoman.

"You are a dragon." She replied. "I am a lion. We are not meant to be kept as pets. You, out of everyone, must understand the thrill of the battle, especially when you fight for what you believe in." Y/N spotted the wine on the table and poured herself a cup, only to ease her mind — and her body.

"And what do you believe in, then?" Aemond watched her sloppily drink the wine, the red liquid spilling down her chin, down the crook of her neck, staining the dress of the woman he so much hated.

"Violence." The Lady of Castamere slammed the cup on the table, feeling herself a tad more courageous. "Pure, ecstatic violence."

It was quite clear that her mother's seducing techniques would not work on a man like Aemond, and they did not need to work, because Y/N's honesty completely enchanted him. To have someone share his passions was more than he could ask from a wife. Once, he was fascinated by, perhaps enamoured with Helaena, but she was soft, and had he married her and grown to love her, she would've softened him. Y/N, on the other hand, was the spark he needed to ignite the fire flowing in his veins. He was a dragon, after all.

"I do not desire an heir." Aemond admitted. He couldn't see himself a father, partly because his own father seemed to prefer his nephews instead of his sons. The fact that Y/N was not interested in being a mother only solidified his love for battle. "And I do not care if you give me one."

Aemond's words awakened something in Y/N, something she had never felt before. It most certainly wasn't love — she couldn't possibly love a man she had just met. It was something else. Lust.

"So, will you allow me to fight, then?" Her voice went up an octave, excited, like a child receiving a toy.

"Gladly. Tell me," Aemond decided to consummate the marriage by discussing their experiences in battle, "have you killed before?" He poured himself a cup of wine. The young Targaryen wasn't keen on drinking, like his brother, but he enjoyed the occasional cup of Arbor Red. And he enjoyed drinking it over talks of spilled blood.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat at the table, finally feeling relaxed.

"Once." She watched her husband sit on the chair next to her, urging her to tell him how and when, and to not shy away from details. Y/N explained that it truly was an accident. Or, better it started as an accident. "Because father never let me fight, I used to dress like a boy and play with wooden swords. But because I was also a spoiled child, I couldn't fathom losing." She sighed, and Aemond was beginning to pick up on where her story was going.

"You don't seem like a spoiled child." Her husband watched her unwind, taking her shoes off and kicking them away.

"I suppose I never wanted to be one, but I liked the perks that came with it. That day, I was playing with the stable boys, and one of them beat the life out of me. I didn't mind the physical pain, but I felt humiliated." Y/N scoffed. "When I attacked him, he removed the hood from my head and instantly recognised me. I was fortunate enough that the other boys left, but out of fear of father finding out what I was doing, I pushed him so hard he fell and hit his head in the stone wall."

"But it was accidental." Aemond mimicked his wife by taking his boots off. He felt strangely comfortable around Y/N, discussing issues he could never talk about with his family.

"Indeed." She agreed. "But I was afraid he would heal and tell the maesters who did that to him. When I caught a glimpse of a dagger, I picked it up, straddled the boy and stabbed him."

"How many times?" His voice was dangerously low, and although Aemond was leaned back in the chair, his fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests, excited to hear more.

"Enough for him to never recover. There was so much blood." Y/N gingerly touched her face, as if she could still feel the hot crimson liquid trickling down her chin. "Warm blood — on my hands, my clothes, my face. I should've felt guilty, but I didn't." There was no hint of remorse in her voice, and her eyes darted to Aemond's lap. It did not surprise her that he was aroused by her story, the bulge in his leather trousers growing more noticeable every time she spoke about blood.

"Then what happened?"

"I left him there, ran back to the castle, burned the clothes and went to bed." Y/N laughed, not at the poor boy's death, but at how selfish she had been. "I was young and stupid."

"You talk as if you're an old hag." The corners of Aemond's lips turned into a smirk.

"It happened a decade ago."

"Tell me, then, if you had your current wisdom, what would you have done?" He leaned forward, studying his wife.

"I would do it all again." Y/N smiled, the wine taking over her brain. She played into her husband's game by imitating him and leaning closer to his face. "I would perhaps get rid of the body this time." Y/N whispered into Aemond's ear.

He had heard enough — enough to desire her in bed. It could've been the wine, it could've been that he hasn't laid with a woman in a long time, but Aemond grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck, pressing his lips onto hers. She allowed him to slide his tongue between her wine-stained lips, and even dared to pull him closer.

Her fears? Gone.

Her morals? Gone.

Her last shred of dignity? Gone.

Aemond pulled away, earning a soft sigh from his wife, only to pull her up from the chair and push her onto the table, the cups clattering onto the floor.

"You..." He whispered, struggling to pull her dress up. "You were made to be mine." Aemond resorted to tearing the dress apart. He didn't like it, anyway, and he knew it brought sorrow to his mother.

Y/N melted under his touch like steel in dragonfire. She hastily pulled his green shirt over his head, taking a moment to appreciate his looks. It tickled Aemond's ego. He did not give two shits on people's opinion of him, but seeing the lust in her eyes only fuelled his inner fire.

"I-" She pressed her palms against his chest. "I am a maiden." Y/N told him, as if he expected her not to be one.

"I can't promise to be gentle." Aemond kissed her again. "But I can promise you will enjoy it."

That was a foreign concept to her. All the stories she heard from her mother were about pain, and how it was a woman's duty to bed her husband and not take pleasure from it. Only whores enjoy it, her mother would say. A whore she would be, then.

Once both of them were stripped of their clothes and morals, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, partly because she wanted to tease her husband. And Aemond was too far gone to respect his wife. His elbow pushed between her thighs, opening her legs while his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him, like a starving dog.

"It will hurt." Was his attempt to comfort her.

"I know." Y/N nodded, her fingernails digging into his upper arms, bracing for pain. "I'm ready."

With her consent out of the way, Aemond slowly slid the tip of his cock between her already slick folds, stopping when he saw the discomfort on her face.

"Relax." He demanded, but it came from a good place. Being more experienced, Aemond wanted everything but to hurt her. When she nodded again, he pushed further, only to hear his wife scream in agony. "Bite into my shoulder. I don't suppose you want to wake everyone up."

Reluctantly, Y/N obeyed the order, her teeth sinking into his skin, and when he bottomed out, she arched her back in pain, wriggling and writhing under him. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, despite Aemond stopping every movement to allow her to adjust to his size. What was worse was gone, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

"By the gods, it hurts so much!" She cried out, gasping when she saw the mark she left on his skin.

"I know. But it will not get any worse than this." Aemond assured her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do." Y/N sobbed, but he was right. The pain slowly dissipated, and her muscles relaxed, no longer feeling on edge. It still hurt, yes, but it did not compare to the sheer pain she had felt moments ago.

When Aemond began rolling his hips, something awakened in the Lady of Castamere. The slight discomfort was still present, but it was quickly replaced by an unknown feeling which Y/N realised was something primal and instinctive — pleasure. Not even the thrills of fighting could compare to the pleasure she felt when Aemond thrusted harder and harder into her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He practically growled, surprising himself with his own words. Aemond wasn't the type of man to talk during these intimate moments, and while he enjoyed the occasional visits to brothels with Aegon, his wife was superior to all the whores he'd ever fucked.

Even her gestures were drawing him to her — the way Y/N rolled her eyes back, how she gasped, how she scratched his skin, leaving her mark on his body. Sure, Aegon might be disgusted by her scar and missing finger, but to Aemond, she was perfectly imperfect.

"So g-good!" Her thoughts were fuzzy, her words barely coherent. All Y/N could do was take him all in and revel in the bliss Aemond offered her.

But he wanted more, and when he pulled out, she complained. It bewildered her how much she actually enjoyed herself, to the point she cried out when she couldn't feel his cock stuffing her.

"Turn around." Aemond ordered, but he was already in the process of flipping her over, his hand pressing her face on the table.

Instinctively, Y/N lifted her ass up, like a bitch in heat, her fingernails leaving scratches on the wood.

"Please, put it in." Her cheeks were squished on the hard surface, body hot to the touch. There was no more room for decency and grace when all she wanted was for her husband to fuck her stupid.

"Already worshipping my cock, eh?" His lips pressed a kiss on her shoulder before he released the grip on her neck to lift her leg on the table. But he delivered, and he pushed his cock into her yearning cunt, a string of moans escaping her lips.

Y/N arched her back, not believing it would be possible for her to feel better than before. Oh, how wrong her mother was. She could feel him deeper, and he was anything but gentle and respectful.

The more he thrusted, the more she bucked her hips, using her trembling arms for support. Aemond's chambers echoed with her moans and his grunts, with the sound of skin on skin, and the disgusting wet noises that filled the Street of Silk.

And then it happened — Aemond's pace quickened, his fingers bruising her hips, and Y/N could feel her climax boiling into her core, awaiting release. Her spongy walls clenched around his cock, her head felt lighter and her chest heavier.

"Gods, Aemond, I can't-" She fell flat on the table, the filthiest guttural sounds emanating from her.

"Fuck." He could feel himself closer to his own climax, but he swiftly pulled his cock out, spilling his seed onto her lower back.

The warm liquid made Y/N prop herself on her elbows, curious as to why he did not finish inside of her.

"No heirs tonight." Aemond said, as if hearing her thoughts. "You're not a cow for breeding, you are my wife."

"I could've taken the tea." She spotted a piece of fabric from her wedding dress and took it, attempting to clean herself.

"You could've, but then everyone would find out." He snatched the fabric from her hand and wiped her skin clean. "And what would my grandfather think, then? That you're not a woman of your word, or worse, that you're plotting against the king."

Aemond was right. The maester would surely let the Hand know, and then she would either be imprisoned or killed.

"Very well. No heirs tonight." Y/N took the soiled fabric, tossing it into the fireplace.

Aemond brought Y/N one of his robes, draping it around her shoulders, his hand resting on the small of her back. Strangely, he felt the urge to hold her close to him, this woman he met and wed on the same day. He felt the need to protect her, despite knowing very well she did not need his protection.

But the only people he ever showed affection were his mother, and occasionally his sister. He did not know how to be a husband. But to show his wife that he trusted her, Aemond quietly took his eye patch off, revealing a sapphire gem in place of his missing eye.

"Disfigured." He uttered, watching his own reflection in the mirror next to the fireplace.

"No, perfect." She smiled, tilting her head so that he could better see her scar. Aemond brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing the scar down her neck, down her collarbone, in-between her breasts.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul." He repeated the Septon's words, and they began to make more sense.

"Now and forever."

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 2 months

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Prisoner pt.3

König x reader.

I tried to write this one as if it was just memories, every dialogue between those «» are different moments, I hope you can try to imagine it in the same way I did. I hurt my own feelings on the way, Remember every ❤️ is important to me, thank you!.

Warning: I hope none, maybe violence but nothing serious. Grammatical and spelling errors, also a translator was used for the German phrases.

Time passed and as you promised, you did your best, you trained hard, you fit in KorTac perfectly, also you won König's trust, both became good friends after you saved him during a mission.

You were controlling a drone, while König was laying on the floor using the sniper, suddenly you heard someone approaching, you didn't hesitate to attack, König just looked at you and said a simple «well done schatz» and continued, for someone else it could be unimportant but for you those words meant a lot.

Every mission helped you to get closer to him, but also you developed another kind of feeling, different to the Respect you had for your Colonel. Every time he was around you felt calm, you felt warm in your chest, every time he unconsciously touched your hand or your shoulder you felt electricity running through your body.

«Colonel are you too busy? Do you mind if I join you?» «Nein, take a seat...»

Every conversation was pretty much the same, You talking a lot, he was just answering, you already knew he is a man of few words.

«... And that's how you play and win in chess» «ja, I know how to play it, just don't like to risk too much in my movements.»

«König, if you have a queen to protect your king... Why wait until the last moment to use it.» «you can win without a queen.» «Jeder König braucht eine Königin (every king needs a queen)» «Where did you learn that?» «At school, duh, but I wasn't really good, Did I say it correctly?» «Ja, very good maus...»

«Did you already think about your new codename? I don't think Buitre is a good codename for someone like you.» « Someone like me? How should someone like me be called then?» «I don't know, you're spirited, strong, smart, attractive... Buitre doesn't fit you.» «Wait, Did you say I'm attractive?» «Wha...?Nein, you're annoying, see you later, alright?» «Alright, see you...»

That day he left quicker than ever, you were having a heart attack, you couldn't believe he said those things about you, mission after mission, you were more and more close, he never said nothing loudly but he enjoyed your company a lot, he was opening himself with you, talking about his dreams or his past.

«Ja, maybe one day I'll decide to retire, I will live in a small house in the countryside.» «i would love to see that, the legend, living in peace after years of hard work» «Sometimes I don't think I can leave... I know I like to be lonely, but to be alone is something I can't handle very well some days». You held his big hand and looked at him, At that moment you weren't sure about what you were doing, you were just leaving your heart to take control of your actions.

«You wouldn't be alone... Remember what I said to you before... Jeder König braucht eine Königin (every king needs a queen) and...since I'm annoying and attractive and also very very single, I wouldn't have any problem to spend the rest of my life with you, you're so far much more than what I always dreamt about...»

Your eyes were closed, at this point you were nervous, risking all the hard work to be around him, you still felt his hand on yours but he was in silence, you were ready to ask him to forgive you for such a comment when you heard something falling on the floor and suddenly his lips collided with yours. It was his mask on the floor, his lips on yours, you could feel a scar, you slowly put your hand on his muscular and big shoulder, and started to go further, his neck, his jaw, finally you touched his face. You didn't need to open your eyes, your hands were more than enough to picture his face on your mind, he was precious, the way he kissed you was soft at first, then it became more intense, the electricity running on your body changed for the feeling of burning, you were in flames, he was the fire you needed to leave your cold and dark past behind. After that evening, both found a new secret reason to fight and went back alive to the base, a secret because no one else but you knew what you had.

«Ich bin dein und du bist mein (I'm yours and you are mine)» König whispered in your ear before sleep, every night and before every mission when nobody was looking at. Life was good and kind for both, giving you the chance to experience how the happiness felt.

But, as with everything, the light needs the dark, the sun needs the moon, the good needs the bad, every beginning needs an end.

It was during a mission. All the team was surrounded by more and more enemies, König was being an amazing leader, guiding everybody to the exit, shouting orders without losing the calm, too focused on saving everyone, letting down his guard just for a second.

That second was enough to end with every possibility of a happy ending. A man was pointing at König, he didn't notice it, but you did, you didn't think about anything else, you did what you needed to protect the person you loved. Jumped just in time to push König aside and make him turn around, but the bullet got you, you fell on the cold ground while könig broke the enemy's head with a quick movement using his weight and a huge hammer in his favor.

- Y/N!

He took you In his arms and ran, you were losing a lot of blood and the pain was getting worse, you resisted until the helicopter landed for all of you. But the pain and the blood were winning the battle. You knew it, you wouldn't make it. You pulled off your dog tag necklace and put it on König's hand.

- NEIN! Look at me y/n! You can't die here!

- I'm sorry my love...

- No, Nein, we have a lot to do, remember? Y/n you said you would spend your life with me...

Everybody was in silence watching the scene, feeling useless and incapable of helping you, they were feeling as intruders In the intimacy of the painful moment.

- I'm getting cold, König would you hold me?

He didn't answer, his actions talked for him, he put you on his lap and held you tight, repeating over and over «Ich bin dein und du bist mein (I'm yours and you are mine)» his gloves and clothes were bathed In your blood, your vision was blurry, you started to close your eyes slowly, you could felt your heartbeat getting slow and quiet, you knew it was over. «Ich liebe dich, meine liebe, meine König...(I love you, my love, my king)» your last breath was accompanied by your last words.

König didn't look down at your body, his look was fixed on the metallic door in front of him, he was containing his rage, his sadness, all the emotional rollercoaster driving him crazy. When they landed, he didn't say anything, he walked with your body to the nursery, the medics didn't try to give CPR or something that could bring you back, they started the protocols for the death.

Three days later, König signed the documents of the autopsy, cremation and another document with your new name and codename, he surprised himself when he read the new codename you chose.

Ex prisoner 505.

Old name: (y/n) (l/n) Old codename: Buitre 6-1.

Reason of imprisonment: War crimes (not specified), murders, torture, undisciplined, deserter (prisoner left his position after committing the aforementioned crimes, was captured and executed).

This prisoner was reported as 'killed in action' before the corresponding authorities, therefore, it does not exist in the system anymore, No more information available.

New identity.

New Name: _____ New Codename: Königin

date of birth: __/__/____ date of death:__/__/____

Cause of death: killed in action. (Y/n)(L/n) died saving the colonel of the team, receiving a bullet directly in the liver, died during the trip to the base, was taken to the nursery by the colonel, the hour of the death was at 18:00 hours, every protocol was attended by the medics of the base. Königin, died with bravery and honor and that is how will be remember.

König cried and sobbed in his office, why did you do that? This shouldn't be happening, both deserved more, this love deserved more, you were too young, a lot of thoughts invaded his mind when something interrupted those dark thoughts, the dog tag, YOUR dog tag necklace, he started to look for it In every pocket until he found it «Buitre 6-1», he put it back where he found it and someone knocking at his door disturbed him. A young soldier, he was carrying a box with your name written on it. König looked at him with cold eyes, took the box and closed the door at the poor soldier's face. He started to look at everything, it wasn't much, a small bottle of perfume, some clothes, a beer, files, cigarettes, bubblegum, candies, and a small paper envelope.

He was feeling guilty for spying on your stuff, but the curiosity was too much, he opened it delicately and found a small piece of metal, another dog tag and a note.

«Thank you for giving me my freedom, thank you for bringing adventures and warmth to my life. Ich liebe dich, meine liebe. You're mine and I'm yours.»

- Königin.

After that day, König started to use your necklace with your dog tags, he visited the place where he deposited your ashes and every time before leaving he kissed the small plate with your name and whispered «I'm still yours, meine Königin, until the day I die»

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oksana-moods · 4 months

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Queens of Promise - Final Part

Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price.

A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.

As always, it means the world to me.

Previous Parts here

Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.

“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”

Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.

Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.

The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.

However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.

Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.

This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.

Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.

You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.

Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.

It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.

The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.

You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.

Your mother was gone.

And you were alone.

As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.

Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.

You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was.

It was painful, it was raw. It was true.

The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.

Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.

She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.

You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.

“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.

“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.

Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”

Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.

“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.

It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.

“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.

“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.

“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.

A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”

“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.

“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”

At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.

With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.

“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.

You could be stubborn.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.

“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.

Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.

You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.

You had missed.

You had failed.

All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.

Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”

Stubborn.

“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.

As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.

Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.

Your sun had just begun its ascension.

– – –

The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.

The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.

Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.

“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.”

Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation.

You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.

“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.

She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated.

First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.

You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear.

“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair.

“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”

Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.”

“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.

“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.

“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.

“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart.

Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow.

That was before.

“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.”

Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.

Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?”

“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up.

“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?”

She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?”

“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure.

She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options.

“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin

“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”

“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”

You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city.

“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.

“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?

She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”

“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.

“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything.

“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.

“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?

“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”

You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries.

“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts.

“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.”

Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda.

And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to.

“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.”

Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.”

A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”

“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.”

Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?”

She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?”

At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well.

For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter.

As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.”

Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again.

“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?”

“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos.

But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer.

“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.”

– – –

The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.

Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips.

It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.

You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess.

So much for your happy ending.

Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one.

Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless.

“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head.

You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir.

“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve.

But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive.

At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in.

You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked.

As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more.

“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders.

The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.

As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving.

The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you.

Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness.

Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone.

It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact.

Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him.

“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.”

He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death.

“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it.

Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?”

– – –

“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you.

“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality.

But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman.

“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table.

The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.

“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”

Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?

Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded.

Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins.

Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?

A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory.

With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost.

“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.”

Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.”

“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life.

Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes.

“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”

“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.

“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?”

“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised.

If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart.

So, who could blame you for asking?

“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion.

Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home.

But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to.

To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”

Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth.

Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?”

“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint.

“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.”

Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon.

“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?”

“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs.

Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense.

Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications.

Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-?

“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.”

Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this.

For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek.

You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this?

“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside.

“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist.

“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.

Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling.

“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”.

It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago.

The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday.

Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away.

It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room.

Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence.

After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”

You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context.

“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed.

“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to.

“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough.

“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.”

“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine.

You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied.

It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up.

Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.

You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate.

She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things.

You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.

“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant.

“It’d be like holding back the wind.”

You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart.

It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy.

This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time.

“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night.

— —

“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.”

If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion.

There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them.

Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.

The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered.

A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good.

You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was.

“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him.

“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance.

In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now.

Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this.

He wouldn’t.

You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay.

“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now.

“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.

It wouldn’t.

“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back.

However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land.

No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.

“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough.

The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks.

Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being.

“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.”

Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy.

“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked.

By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.

The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.

Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup.

No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you.

There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you.

With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?

Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are.

Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.

The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away.

“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort.

“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number.

For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all.

When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there.

But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked.

“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.”

Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.”

– – –

You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted.

Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia.

It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way.

Ironic, you thought.

‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever.

It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom.

And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder.

Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience.

Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move.

People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though.

It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much.

Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing.

Persevering.

Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed.

Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company.

Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight.

And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers.

It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her.

However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past.

With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above.

You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands.

“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited.

In fact, she was told to not interrupt.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?”

She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true.

“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world.

The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over.

The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words.

It was beautiful and magical.

Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths.

This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming.

As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise.

Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest.

Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you.

For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was.

It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power.

Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king.

It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship.

The nerve.

Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying.

Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free.

She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe.

Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life.

“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.”

Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether.

You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.

“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around.

Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt.

You have told her, just not with words.

You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?”

Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics.

She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain.

“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat.

You only nodded and she asked. “Why?”

For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it.

There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart.

And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.

“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.”

A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.

“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face.

For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.

A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?”

Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?”

She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?

“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.”

For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch.

The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both.

It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process.

“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between?

“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good.

“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears.

The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on.

“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence.

– – –

If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect.

After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives.

Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.”

The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss.

The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love.

After all, you were the Queens of Promise.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #angst #princess wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #medieval au #queens of promise #wanda maximov #princess reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x female reader #wanda x fem #wanda maximoff x fem! reader

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midnightsapphire · 1 year

Text

What Once Was (Chapter Six)

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader

Warnings : Targ!cest, future nsfw, mentions of violence & death, slow burn, reader insert but slight oc! Descriptions, Aegon being Aegon

Feedback is appreciated! Much love!

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Death was inevitable.

It followed the Targaryens like the plague. First had been the fires of Harrenhall, the smoke burning into the sky as (Y/N) watched with horror alongside her family, who ushered her away from the scene as she thrashed against her mother’s grip. “No! No!” She screamed until her throat was raw, clawing at the arms that restrained her as she felt the clench in her heart.

The word has spread quickly, the slow death of Ser Harwin Strong, alongside the hand of the King. Burned to death, they had said. Nothing but ash and bone found along the scene as (Y/N) felt herself fall to her knees when bared the news. Denial filled her as she covered her ears, ignoring the pleas of her mother, who wanted to comfort her but did not know how without revealing their true lineage, as if she hadn’t already known.

“How long do you wish to play these games, mother?” She whispered, her voice almost foreign to herself as she glanced at Rhaenyra with glassy eyes. Her hands clenched along the fabric of her dress, practically threatening to rip it at the seams as her mother stood arms length from her, kneeling down to meet the young girl’s gaze as she cupped her face.

“There are no games, sweetling-”

“Then why do you not give us time to mourn? To reach Harrenhall and pay our respects to the Strongs. We need to be there.”

“We are but strangers to the house Strong. The Velaryon’s are our kin, they are not. It is forbidden-”

“He was my father!” (Y/N) screamed, pushing her mother’s hands away as she rose to her feet, the tears free flowing down her face as she grew red with anger. “Look at me! At Jace, Luke, Joffrey! We are not like you or father. We are Strong, we have his blood flowing through us, we are his-”

“That is enough!” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed along the stone walls around them, surprising both her daughter and herself as she stood straighter, collecting herself quickly as she held her chin high. “We shall not speak of this any longer. You are forbidden from visiting Harrenhall and that is final, (Y/N).” She ordered, narrowing her eyes at her daughter as the girl scoffed.

“You love to claim that blood is all we have. But when we are needed the most, you cower and hide away.” (Y/N) spat, brushing past her mother as she angrily left her chambers. She felt the seabreeze hit her skin as she followed her kin down the halls, sighing to herself as she wiped the tears that burned at her skin.

It was a funeral after all, tears had been normal. Welcomed even, but not the funeral she had wished to attend.

Leana Velaryon.

The aunt she had barely known, passed in a burst of flames instead of falling to death in the clutches of childbirth. (Y/N) met the somber eyes of her brother, who stood alongside Baela and Rhaena on the bench as the two girls mourned their mother. Baela, who’s hand was clutched against Jace’s, tightened when Aemond had stood in front of them, offering them a sympathetic smile as her brother’s stare only hardened at the blonde.

With a sigh, he had walked away, eyes brightening as they met (Y/N)’s. The small glimmer only faded as he was whisked away by his older brother, who reeked of ale and desperation as he ogled at the many maids surrounding them. “She’s an idiot.” He repeated for the thousandth time Aemond has heard. The older Targaryen’s face curled into a sneer as he glared daggers at their sister’s oblivious back, far too engrossed in the crawlers on the floor.

“We have nothing in common.”

“She is to be your future queen.”

“You marry her then.” He scoffed as Aemond’s eyes casted downward, biting at the inside of his cheek as he glanced in the direction of (Y/N), who glared at her mother’s back from a distance, too far from her own siblings and family.

“I..” He hesitated, hands tightening behind his back. “I would perform my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.”

“If only, then our sweet niece would have been graced to wed me instead.” Aegon smirked from the rim of his cup, his eyes following his brother’s as they landed on her. Aemond tensed from beside him, knowing very well the indiscretions his brother had against the women of the keep, the amount of tears that were shed from his doings alone.

“I heard from our mother, they had wished to wed you to our sweet niece once you are both of age. Father says it would be a wonderful alliance! To keep the Valyrian blood pure, keep alliances… strong.” Aegon snickered as he nudged his brother, who stiffened further as his eyes widened at the news.

“Do not make such jests.” Aemond grumbled under his breath, glancing back at their sister that mumbled on her own.

“On the bright side, I did find one similarity I share with our dear sister.” Aegon hummed, his neck craning as his smirk grew wider, leaning towards Aemond’s ear.

“We both fancy creatures with very.. long legs.” He mumbled under his breath, following a servant that had served another jug of wine.

“Wench! Bring me another!” He called out as Aemond rolled his eyes, excusing himself from his sister’s presence as his pace quickened to catch up to his niece, who warily watched the flittering glances of her great uncle and her mother.

“At a funeral, no less. Have they both no shame?” (Y/N) sighed to herself, feeling the presence of another next to her as she glanced at them from the corner of her eye. The wisps of blonde hair made the corner of her lips upturn slightly, turning her head to meet Aemond’s piercing gaze.

“It is not befitting of a future queen to be scorning her predecessor.” Aemond scolded playfully, tilting his head to meet her eyes for the first time since the ceremony had begun. Her own eyes softened as she reached her hand out to him, their fingers intertwining behind the cloaks that had kept them warm from the stinging sea breeze.

“It is not befitting of a future queen to galavant while she is still married, let alone with a widower.” She scorned, rolling her eyes out of disappointment as she had seen her mother stalk away, coincidentally followed by her great uncle. Though young, she knew exactly the pursuit her mother was after, knowing already she had mothered children out of her own wedlock, it no longer surprised her to see the two sneak off.

Aemond’s eyes followed her own, detesting the very dishonor his half-sister yet again does to their family name. His hands tightened against (Y/N)’s as he pulled her attention away, bringing them to the middle of the crowd as they watched, bowing their heads out of respect to the casket being dragged into the water.

His heart raced in his chest as she stood closer to him, their shoulders resting against each other as he mumbled soft prayers under his breath. He had only paused once he had heard the distant, yet sorrowful roars of a dragon in the far distance, his attention peaked as he leaned closer to (Y/N)’s ear.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, nudging his head towards the shore as (Y/N) looked over her shoulders, sharing a small smile with him as they dashed down the cobble steps, passing a drunken Aegon that was too far into his cups to recognize the pair.

“They say Vhagar had been patrolling the beaches, now left without a rider.” Aemond spoke gleefully as he tugged (Y/N) down the sand with him, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to register his words.

“Vhagar is still along the coast?”

“It is what was said, not that the Velaryon has passed away. She is free to be claimed.”

“But.. they said she was meant to be Rhaena’s, was she not?”

“Not if another beats her to it.”

—

“Wait here for me, shall I be successful, then you will know.” Aemond whispered along the walkways, his head covered by his hood as he kept his hands planted on (Y/N)’s shoulders, who looked at him with uncertainty of his plan.

“Aemond, I’m not too sure about this. People are grieving, is it really time to stake out a hundred year old war dragon?” She mumbled, her hands reaching up to grip his tightly, almost pleading him to discard the foolish idea he had conjured in his head. But the determination burned through his violet hues as he kissed her knuckles, cheeks turning a soft pink.

“I had sworn to be your protector, claiming this dragon is bringing me- bringing us one step closer to that. I swear to you, I will be back.” He said softly as he slowly let go of her hands, not entirely letting go until their fingertips no longer brushed against each other.

“Do not break that swear, Aemond.” She had warned as he gave her a firm nod, dashing down to the beaches as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck.” He had cursed, tripping over his own boots in the sand as he neared the gargantuan beast slumbering on the sand. His eyes widened at how the giant beast towered over his smaller body, ducking behind any shrub or rock that concealed him enough to keep from startling the she-dragon as he neared it.

He took deep breaths, staring at the ropes that rested along her saddle, the way her body rose with every deep breath she took. To Aemond, the beast was mesmerizing. He took gentle steps towards the beast’s saddle, his hand barely grazing the ropes that cascaded down her body before a golden eye narrowed at the blonde.

Aemond quickly retracted his hand, his heart almost stopping in his chest as Vhagar’s body rubbled with a deep growl, her head rising from the sand as Aemond, still frightened, retreated from her large body. He firmly stood his ground, not daring to move a muscle aside from his labored breathing as Vhagar turned her head away from the boy.

Once again, he reached a hand towards the ropes, this time with more vigor in his movements. Vhagar’s head whipped towards his, her eyes narrowing into slits as her large mouth opened, a faint orange glow forming at the back of her throat as Aemond raised a hand to her snout.

“Dohaeras! Dohaeras, Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri! Lykiri.” He spoke, trying his best not to flinch at the hot breath that blew his hair back, Vhagar’s golden eyes burning into his own as he tried again, this time climbing upon the ropes that led to the saddle on her back. Aemond felt his heart nearly about to burst as he settled himself into the seat, gripping onto the reins as he panted from the long climb.

The view from dragonback knocked the wind from the boy’s chest as he tried to fight the smile from growing on his face. There was still no time for celebration as he felt the dragon’s rumble flow through his entire body. “Soves! Dohaeras, Vhagar! Soves!” He called out, letting out a yelp as the dragon slowly rose from it’s laying position, body shaking the sand off itself as Aemond stumbled, his grip faltering as he felt himself slipping off the saddle.

He felt himself letting out a yell as Vhagar’s body shook the ground beneath them, his own rocking side to side as he no longer felt the seat under him, his legs kicking as he tried to ground himself back to the seat as Vhagar took flight. Aemond frantically yelled, pulling at the ropes as Vhagar dove towards the ground below them, his shouts soon turning into cheers as the dragon rose higher into the sky.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled in triumph, his head falling back in amusement as he let the wind whip at his face, the sting no longer bothering him as he circled around the island.

—-

(Y/N) felt the anxiousness creep upon her the longer Aemond took. She had resulted in biting the ends of her nails, peeking from the opening of the halls as footsteps neared them. “(Y/N)!” She heard Jace call to her, her cousins and younger brother all in tow as they frantically ran down still in their sleepwear.

“What are you all doing awake? Go back to your chambers.” She ordered, trying her best to hide the fear she had, knowing it would cause an uproar had they known what Aemond had done.

“Someone stole Vhagar!”

“What are you doing up? How did you get here before us.” Jace questioned, narrowing his eyes at his elder sister as he held a hand out to hold the sisters behind him. (Y/N)’s eyes flickered between all of them, picking at her nail beds as she opted to stare at her shoes.

“I.. heard a commotion and took it upon myself to see what it was.”

“Well, who was it?’

“It was me.” (Y/N) heard Aemond speak, whipping her head to see the disheveled blonde. Her eyebrows furrowed at the aura that now surrounded him as he sauntered his way past her, barely glancing at her as he stood defiantly in front of Jace.

“Vhagar was my mother’s dragon.”

“Your mother’s dead.” Aemond spat without hesitation, causing (Y/N) to gasp as she tugged at Aemond’s arm.

“Watch what you say. Simply because you claimed a dragon, it gives you no right to act like a twat.” (Y/N) scolded as she harshly pulled him back, creating a bigger distance between them as Jace turned his glare to his own sister.

“You knew about this?” He accused as (Y/N) tore her eyes away from him, only gripping onto Aemond tighter as he smirked smugly.

“Of course she knew. And now Vhagar has a new rider.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins will give you a pig to ride instead. It would suit you.” Aemond said smoothly as he rolled his eyes, his hand lowering to intertwine with (Y/N)’s as she pulled away, just out of his reach. His eyebrow furrowed as he glanced at her, disbelief in her eyes as she avoided even his eyes.

“Aemond, stop. You’re being cruel.” She whispered, hands tugging at her sleeves as his words burned into her, not having a dragon to call her own either. It was as if he had become as spiteful as Aegon and her brothers had been in the dragon pits now that he had a claim of his own.

A cry broke them out of their stares as Baela swung at Aemond, who effortlessly pushed her onto the ground. “Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He spat, a feral glint in his eyes as (Y/N) shrunk away, covering her ears as the shouts and hollers began.

Punches were thrown, bodies were constantly falling to the ground as blood began to pour from Luke’s nose after a solid hit from Aemond. (Y/N) screamed at them all to stop, none heeding her words as she felt herself being pushed and hit on her own for aiding Aemond in his theft. “You knew she was my mother’s! You’re just as much of a traitor as he is!” Baela growled, pulling at (Y/N)’s hair as she felt another hand, who she assumed was from Rhaena, slap at her face, crying out about her betrayal to them.

Aemond watched from his spot, punching the young Lucerys in the nose with a sickening crack as he grabbed the older brother with a sneer on his face. Push after push, he knocked the boys down as they let out frustrated yells, each louder than the last as they aimed to knock the other over.

He felt the wind be knocked out of him as the other three, Rhaena, Luke and Jace each turned their attention to him, catching him off guard as they punched and kicked at him. But his eyes remained on the fallen (Y/N), curling her body into a ball as Baela relentlessly kicked and punched at her body, yelling curses and strews of insults of helping him.

The blonde found it in himself to kick Jace against his chest, knocking him back as his hand pushed Rhaena away from him.

“Let her go! Less you want to die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond threatened, blood seeping down his nose as he held Luke by the collar of his clothing. (Y/N) gasped when she had seen the raised rock in his hands, glaring daggers at all of them as the the girl released (Y/N).

“Let my brother go, Aemond.” She said softly, grunting as she scrambled onto the floor. The blonde narrowed his eyes at her, his grip on Jace’s collar tightening as a flicker of rage passed through his violet irises. “Just a while ago, you were rejoicing in the thought of me claiming a dragon, and now you’re taking it back?”

“I did not rejoice, Aemond! Had I known you would become.. this?! I would have never encouraged it.” She reasoned, watching as Aemond’s glare faded momentarily, his eyes glazing over as he felt the betrayal in her words, his heart conflicted as he glanced down at the blood dripping from the corner of her lip.

“Why are you choosing their side? We had spoken of this. With my dragon we could have sailed the seven realms.” He said with clenched fists, rage building in his heart at how quickly she had turned, eyes hardening as she tried to reach out to him.

She didn’t care. She only spoke lies. Aegon had warned him, his mother had warned him. Her entire existence in itself had been built off a lie.

“You’re just like them. Nothing but filthy, lying bastards.” He hissed, hands tightening on the rock as he swung it over his head. “And you- a whore just like your mother.” He spat, (Y/N)’s jaw dropping at the vile insults as Luke whimpered in his grasp.

“My father is alive!”

“He doesn’t know, does he, Lady Strong?” Aemond hissed as (Y/N) flinched at his tone, how effortlessly he spat the very words she would confide in him that pained her the most to hear. She knew then that there was a line that had been far crossed between the two of them, barely able to look him in the eyes as her hands clenched at her sides.

Jace’s glare hardened at Aemond, for not only insulting their parents, but his sister as well. The heartbroken gaze in her eyes was enough for him to bring out a dagger from his sleeve, aiming it towards their uncle. “Jace, do not.” (Y/N) warned when she had seen the glint of the blade reflect the light from the torches. Her hand hesitantly reached out to grab the weapon from his hand as he pushed her side, mindlessly swinging the dagger at Aemond has he narrowly dodged each swipe.

He sent another punch at Jace’s face, knocking the boy off his feet as he raised the stone above his head, smirking smugly as he faced his cousins and nephews, his eyes hesitating before they stopped at (Y/N), who’s breath hitched when he only raised it higher. Luke scrambled onto the floor, knowing the blonde had been far too distracted, Jace only catching the movement from the corner of his eyes as he threw sand in Aemond’s eyes.

It had all happened too quickly, (Y/N) running to catch Luke, but froze when she heard the painful slide of the blade as Luke cried out, slashing Aemond across the face blindly as the dagger fell to his side.

He let out a harsh cry as (Y/N) ran to her brother, pushing them both behind her as Aemond clutched his face, the blood pouring from his hands and onto the ground beneath them. Her eyes flitted towards the dagger, patting herself down as she realized it had been the one gifted to her from Ser Harwin.

Her breath quickened as she looked down at the screaming Aemond. So desperately had she wanted to run to him, to give him aid but the hand on her wrist from Jace stopped her, all of them backing away as the kingsguard frantically separated the children.

“Cease this at once! My prince, let me see, let me see.” She heard Ser Harrold speak softly to Aemond, sucking in a breath as she had seen the blood pool from his hands, hugging both Jace and Luke against her chest as she faintly saw the long wound that occupied half his face.

“Gods be good.”

—

The adults had flown into the chambers as quick as they could, each grasping the children as cries and yells soon filled the room. Rhaenyra burst through the doors, rushing to collect her boys and her daughter as the maester rushed to carefully sew the wound on Aemond’s face. His back was turned to them as (Y/N) gripped at her skirts tightly, her own eyes strewn shut as the yelling commenced, each blaming one another as they tried to find out what had been the start of the fight.

“They attacked me!”

“He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke's nose!”

“Enough!” Viserys yelled, his chest heaving as his decaying body hunched over as he glared at his children and grandchildren. His eyes cast themselves towards (Y/N), who had yet to meet his own gaze as he limped over to his only granddaughter.

“My sweet, you are the only one who has not spoken this entire time. Tell your grandsire what had occurred.” Viserys reasoned as (Y/N) hesitantly looked up, meeting his eyes before turning to Aemond who had shifted in his chair to look at her briefly before turning his eye downward.

“He called us bastards.” Jace spoke instead, finding his sister unable to speak as all eyes turned to him. She had faintly seen the upwards curl of Aemond’s lips at the insult, snickering to himself as (Y/N) clenched her hands, the bile rising to her throat at how.. smug he had looked.

“And he..” Jace hesitated, looking from his mother to his sister. “He called (Y/N) a whore.” He whispered as gasps filled the room, (Y/N) breath quickening as she hid herself behind Jace, biting on the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. The burn ached at the back of her throat as she dared to take a glance at Aemond.

The boy she had sworn she had loved before she knew what love was, the one who had sworn to be the one protecting her, the one who was meant to stand by her side, now almost a stranger to her as she looked at the cold shoulder he had given her.

“I will have the truth of what happened.”

“What truth? Your son has been maimed. Her children are responsible.”

“It was a regrettable accident.”

“Accident? Prince Lucerys brought a knife to the ambush, the very knife owned by the Princess (Y/N). Your children meant to kill mine!”

“It was my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves.” Rhaenyra spoke as he held onto Luke’s hand, the smaller boy hiding his face in her skirts as she affectionately rubbed her thumb along his skin.

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth has been put loudly to question.” She said plainly as Viserys visibly looked confused. (Y/N) fought the urge to roll her eyes, hiding behind her mother as she felt the burning stare of Aemond from across the hall. She knew he wanted her to look at him, to see the visible wound her brothers had left on his face, but with the growing wound in her heart, she couldn’t bring herself to find any comfort in his gaze.

“He called us bastards.” Luke spoke softly, looking at his mother as she gave him a nod of approval. “And.. he called (Y/N) a whore.”

“What?” Viserys scoffed, his eyes trained to his son as a smirk grew on his face. (Y/N) caught a slight glimpse of the upturned curl of his lips, allowing Jace to hold her hand tightly as he gently pushed her behind his body. He knew of their closeness, saw firsthand how the vile insults had hurt her the most knowing Aemond had been there for her especially when their legitimacy had been questioned by the lords and ladies of the court.

“This is the highest of treasons, your grace. The Prince Aemond should be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.” She warned as the young blonde turned in his seat, glaring at his older half-sister in disbelief.

“Over an insult?” Alicent gasps out. “My son has lost an eye-”

“You tell me now, boy. Where did you hear this lie?” Viserys questioned harshly, Aemond pursing his lips into a thin line as he averted his gaze away from his father’s. (Y/N) clenched her eyes, knowing Aemond no longer had any reason to protect her, she had been the one to come to Aemond day by day to speak of her illegitimacy, the way they spoke of her and her brothers, how she knew she was of Strong blood.

The king ignored his wife’s distractions, blaming the rumors on a simple jest between the boys that had long gone overboard, but his harsh gaze remained on his son. “Your king demands an answer.” He pressed further, watching in shock as his son’s gaze went to his mother.

(Y/N)’s heart fell as she followed his sight, her hand slipping out of Jace’s as she looked to the Queen, who knew she was caught in her actions. But she knew Aemond had a deep love for his mother, hence why it didn’t surprise her when he had shifted the blame effortlessly to Aegon.

“Me?” He asked in shock as Viserys quickly went to his eldest son, practically screaming in his ear.

“And you, boy. Where did you hear such columnies?” He spat, his rage growing as he yelled in Aegon’s face.

“We know, father. Everyone knows.” Aegon said in exasperation, still in disbelief at the charade his father continues to play only to save face of his eldest child. “Just look at them. (Y/N) herself is aware that her lineage isn’t what you try to convince everyone to believe.”

Viserys shook his head, slamming his cane onto the stone flooring as he glared at everyone in the hall. “This fighting must cease! We are a family!” He yelled desperately, his voice growing shaky as he shook his head. “Now.. make your apologies to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!” He ordered as Alicent furrowed her eyebrows.

“And let it be known, anyone that dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children should have their tongue removed.” He threatened as Rhaenyra thanked her father, pulling her children close to her as Alicent looked at him in shock.

“Viserys, he is your blood! There is no justice when your son has been maimed!”

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“Then we shall have one of theirs. Allow Aemond to choose, the gracious choice that he was not given when her children attacked him.” Alicent ordered as she nudged her head to Ser Cole. “Prince Lucerys or Princess (Y/N), neither matters.”

The uproar only commenced again as Ser Cole surged forward, only to be stopped by Daemon that had stood in his way. Rhaenyra pushed back her children as she held onto Alicent’s arms, who had grown desperate at the lack of justice for her own child.

(Y/N) gasped as the blade shook dangerously close to her mother’s face, Jace holding onto the back of her dress to keep her from running to her mother’s aid as they mumbled amongst themselves. “Now you take my son’s eye, and to even that you feel entitled.” Alicent said shakily, nobody daring to get in between the grieving mothers.

“Exhausting, isn’t it? Hiding behind a cloak of your own righteousness, but now they see you as you are.” Rhaenyra whispered as Alicent thrashed against her grip. (Y/N) grunted, listening to the rip of her dress as she threw herself out of Jace’s grip, running towards her mother just as Alicent swung the blade down.

The young girl let out a scream as she pushed the Queen’s wielded arm, Rhaenyra barely managing to move her daughter out of the way as she held (Y/N) close. “Let me see, let me see it.” She said in a panic as Alicent dropped the blade in shock.

(Y/N) sobbed as she fell to her knees, her hands clutching her collarbone as the blood seeped into her clothing, whether it was from her own wound, or the one now adorned on her mother’s wrist, she no longer knew.

They had both turned to Alicent, who mumbled to herself that she “hadn’t meant to”. Aemond took it upon himself to take his mother’s arm, resting his head onto her shoulder. “Do not mourn me mother, for I have gained a dragon.” He reassured her as she held him close to her chest.

“In return for my eye, I ask for one thing.” He mumbled, turning his one eye towards (Y/N).

“My bride.”

----

< Strikes means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag :c please tell me if you’d like to be removed! >

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myfandomprompts · 6 months

Text

To Risk It All | Chapter 1

Aemond x Dragonrider!OC

Summary: Daera arrives in King's Landing. Aemond remembers her vividly.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers. | Prologue - Masterlist

Though Daera had never stepped foot in King's Landing before, the Dragonpit was unmistakable as she glided down her dragon towards the sandy ground, the Dragonkeepers welcoming her as they once did with Laenor. The red towers of the castle were visible in the distance, the chaotic sound of the city rising in the air as well as the stench that came along with it. All of this was so new to her. Once in the carriage that would lead her to Aegon’s Hill, she wondered what her mother and cousins had planned upon their delayed arrival. Would they demand justice, revenge?

Leaving the Queen, she was led to her brother’s temporary chambers. Upon seeing him again, Daera did not hesitate to throw herself in his arms, holding him tightly as if she feared he would disappear. His purple eyes were red with exhaustion, his small figure pressing against her chest as she held him close. She asked about him, but Daemion only voiced a weak affirmation before diving back into a worrying silence.

“Mother and father’s cousins are on their way, they will be there soon. Then we will go home,” she assured him, stroking his silver curls fondly.

His silence endured and she could do nothing but respect it, basking in their shared embrace before they were led to the royal sept. She held her brother’s hand while she paid her respects to their father, trying to not care for the gruesome state of his head under the white linen while Daemion stared at the ground, speechless.

Daera could feel him trembling, so she squeezed his hand harder.

Soon nightfall came and Daemion had still not said a word to her and when they came back to their apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast. The ghost of their father floated around them like a cold breeze, icing their blood, making them feel so alone, so powerless.

She asked him if he was tempted by a nightly ride upon Seasmoke, hoping to spark something other than sorrow in his eyes, but he only dismissed her with a curt shake of the head. “Daemion… we must be strong. Carry on what he left behind for us, and for mother. You can cry in front of me, you don’t have to hold your tears.”

He finally looked at her, pain plaguing his expression, and she wanted to wipe it away, make it disappear forever.

“You don’t cry,” he remarked with watery eyes.

“I do. I only reserve my grief for the ones I love, and that is you and mother. Certainly not the court,” she answered with bitterness, thinking about those who had done nothing while Vaemond Velaryon was mercilessly slain before them.

Now all that she hoped was that one day, her brother would be able to overcome the trauma the Rogue Prince had inflicted upon him, upon her family. She would make it so, she promised.

Daemion didn’t say a word, instead wrapped her arms around her, flattening his face against her and her heart ached in affection. “Goodnight, sister.”

As she watched her brother close the door, she realised that she, on the other hand, could not bear to be alone. She was scared to be left with her thoughts in such an unfamiliar place and desired to return to what comforted her.

She glanced at each side of the corridor, trying to remember the location of the stairs that led to the main hall. She moved through the castle silently, her steps leading her through the red faded stoney walls until she reached the outyard, where the night had settled so deep she shivered under her cloak.

“I demand to be taken to the Dragonpit,” she called out to one of the guards standing at the main gate.

“It is the hour of the ghosts, my Lady.”

“And what of it?” Daera said, arching a brow high on her forehead.

The guard looked at her with a repressed scoff. “So I cannot prepare a carriage only because you wish to see your dragon, I am afraid.”

Daera fumed inside, but was unwilling to give up. “Then find someone to escort me on foot.”

This time, the guard did not hide his snicker. “I do not think that a young Lady such as you should be strolling the streets at this hour.”

“Open the gates.”

Daera turned around to see the newcomer as the guard widened his eyes. She had to narrow hers in order to see properly amidst the shadows of the courtyard but she could recognise the silver hair around his face and the smug demeanour of the man that was now advancing toward them. He wore a long dark green cloak that enveloped his figure, boots scratching the floor.

“Yes, my Prince.”

The guard did as told, gesturing to his counterpart to help him move the heavy doors in order to allow the Prince passage. Once outside of the walls, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at her over his shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

Daera almost jumped, startled to be addressed and scurried to follow him, earning an annoyed look from the guard that closed the gates behind them. The silver-haired man only smirked and resumed his walk, forcing her to catch up with him.

“You are the Velaryon girl. Daera, is it? The Winged Seahorse?” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye while hastening his pace away from the castle’s gates. “You ride Seasmoke?”

“Yes.”

The way he behaved along with his unabashed confidence left little to no doubt about his identity, and Daera’s suspicions were confirmed when they came to a stop at a junction, now facing each other for the first time.

He looked at her, fully, and she could see the lilac eyes, the curly silver hair, the proud jawline and the redness under his eyes. She had not seen them in years, but it was easy to guess which out of the three children of Viserys Targaryen he was.

“Yes, my Prince. And you are Aegon Targaryen," she concluded, hinting that they had never been introduced properly.

“Indeed, we’ve met once before. But we both grew up since that time,” he said with poise before giving her a onceover. “And for the best, it would seem."

Daera stayed emotionless. “I suppose so. We must live up to our House’s name the best we can. Make them proud.”

He looked at her for a little while, assessing her features and the way she spoke, trying to decide if the girl was not very quick witted or if she was just careful around him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said after his study, watching as her eyes turned grimmer at the mention of her father.

“Thank you."

She did not know what to say, and gazed at the paved stone. She had successfully managed to exit the castle grounds but from her position, she had no idea in what direction the Dragonpit was, the night sky hindering her vision.

But her curiosity was piqued by the unexpected encounter, making her momentarily forget about her destination. "May I ask where you are going at this hour, Prince Aegon?”

“The only place I can truly entertain myself,” he smirked. "I would have invited you to come along, but as I understood, you have a dragon to ride.”

She only nodded, deciding that she did not want to drag a more precise answer out of him by the way he mysteriously looked at her.

“The Dragonpit is this way, you’ll have to cross Fleabottom,” he pointed vaguely to the street on the right. "Keep on and you’ll see the light of the dome from the plaza. I hope the Dragonkeepers are in a good mood,” he added. “For your sake.”

He reached for his hood to put it over his hair, covering the very recognisable silver of it. “Oh… Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight, Daera.”

As she watched him stride off southward, she felt jealous of his hood, feeling silly for not having brought one of her own to hide her silver head. Instead she was left to squeeze the fabric of her cloak around her and began walking, thoughts swirling around the oddity of the King’s son.

Were all of his children like this? Helaena? Aemond? Daeron?

She thought about Aemond, the boy she had met with two eyes before he lost one out of pure perseverance. She had seen neither him nor Helena since her arrival, and she knew Daeron to be in Oldtown. But now that she had met one of them, she found herself most curious about the others.

It was a shame that she was to leave as soon as her great cousins’ plea would be heard.

Aemond cursed under his breath when he saw that none of the adjacent streets he had taken were empty, his plan to remain unnoticed moot. His evening ride on Vhagar had been pleasant, a necessity after the dinner that had left him fuming, remembering the sufficient snort of Lucerys Velaryon as the roasted pig was served, and how Jacaerys Velaryon had thought he could provoke him. In fact, Aemond felt vengeful still, much of the ire accumulated within him since that fateful day on Driftmark demanding to be released, and he felt it more and more difficult to keep his rancour at bay.

The noises of the night owls above and the drunks staggering on the main street steered him away from his murderous thoughts, noticing with relief that he was getting closer to the Red Keep as he walked further up Sour Belley Row. When he took a turn to a street he hoped to be empty, the thoughts invaded him once again.

If only he could challenge Lucerys Valeryon, challenge him in a fight, or even sneak into his room, unseen, and make him beg for him to stop when he would try to take his eye as wel-

A loud laugh echoed from one of the back alleys, and he instantly stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenching. "... the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn…"

He looked under his hood to search for the source of the voice, only spotting two shadowy forms as another shrilling laugh echoed against the stone walls of the alley. From afar he recognised an old woman he knew blind, talking to a stranger whose back was turned to him.

He sighed with annoyance; this woman was known to be some sort of seer, overlooked by some, adored by others, and decided to pay it no mind, rather walking away before earning more of her questionable predictions. It was easy for a charlatans like her to announce the death of his father when he had one foot in the tomb, and her sort only deserved his disdain.

But as he casted one last disapproving look to the old crone, he caught sight of the stranger’s silver hair facing her and stilled again.

It was a woman, a young woman that was wearing noble clothes, both blue and black, wrapped around a thick dark marine cloak. A Targaryen? One of Aegon’s bastards? No, she was far too old. An imitator perhaps? Not from her clothes and the way she stood herself. She then turned her face slightly, and curiosity took the better of him at once.

She was too beautiful not to be of noble blood, and there was only one person that possessed her characteristics and was currently in the capital: Daera Velaryon, the girl he had watched grieve Laena Velaryon all of those years ago on Driftmark, and had sometimes after claimed her brother’s dragon, following his own steps.

The one who had led him to the dune where Vhagar slept.

She had grown much, she was nothing like the girl he had met by the seaside. Before he could realise it, his feet had advanced toward the two women on their own, and as he stepped into the light, the white orbs of the seer snapped at him like she had suddenly recovered the ability to see. The Velaryon followed her gaze and took a hasty step back when she realised that he was right behind her, a jasmine fragrance filling the air as she moved.

He could not blame her for her reaction, knowing that he would look rather imposing to her as he beat her both in height and size and bore a hooded cloak that hid most of his face, keeping it in the shadows.

“Ha! There is the vision, the one you will cower under!” continued the old woman, drawing back both Aemond’s and the girl’s gaze on her.

Then the young woman spoke, allowing him to finally hear her voice for the first time in years, memories coming back to him at the softness of her tone. “I… I don’t understand.”

The seer cackled again and began searching for Daera’s hands, reaching to her front and bringing them into her own. “The God of Flame and Shadow understands, my dear,” she said as she tapped her hand and grinned widely. "You, on the other hand, don't need to."

Aemond was almost certain that the woman had ‘looked’ straight at him as she said her last piece, but he had no time to react for she let out another cackle before letting go of Daera’s hands and proceeded to slowly limp away in the dark alley, holding on to the wall for direction.

Both him and Daera watched as she disappeared in the shadows before she turned to face him, making Aemond remember where he was and where he was going before he had stupidly lost himself in a dark alley.

He could feel her gaze on him, scrutinising, the scent of jasmine spreading in the air.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes searching under the hood that covered his face.

He congratulated himself for letting his sapphire eye bare of leather for that particular occasion. No one could know he was away from the keep, even less recognise him.

“None of your concern, I’m afraid.”

His tone was cold, unforgiving. He wanted to turn away before she could ask any more compromising questions, but his body refused to move, as if it was detached from his brain.

“You smell of dragon.”

He stopped himself in time from lifting his head completely in reaction, keeping his features safely tucked away in the shadows. Instead, he watched her intensely under his hood as she kept searching for his eye, gears visibly turning behind her violet ones.

“It’s unwise to insult strangers away at such a late hour. Especially alone,” he answered with all the menacing tone he could muster.

She straightened at that, and if she hadn’t considered him dangerous before, she was now. Or was it prudence?

“I didn't mean to insult you. I only… I just wanted to head to the Dragonpit by myself, but I got… distracted,” she gestured behind her where the woman had disappeared, staring at the now empty street deep in thought. “I wish to see the dragons for myself.”

“Hm,” he found himself muttering, wondering why in the seven hells he was still standing there instead of being on his way back already. Instead he found the want to goad her, to test her. “Maybe if you had stayed on the main street and avoided being lured by beggars and liars, you would have found it without difficulty.”

He saw her chin lift up at that, like a creature ready to strike, to defend itself.

Like a dragon.

“Well, if I was lured so easily, like you put it, I wonder what you are doing here,” she said defiantly, “Fancy the words of a liar or do you just have a likeness for dark alleys? Or perhaps more discriminating endeavours?”

He considered her for a moment before letting out a scoff, surprising himself and earning a puzzled look from her. She had the grit of her father, he could give her that. Or was it the fire in her veins, the same that he possessed?

"See the dragons," she had said, instead of explaining that she wanted to ride hers. Just like he had.

Exactly as he had said all of those years ago.

He hummed again, scrutinising her. “Maybe you should ask someone else, there are much more informed people in those streets than old fortune tellers and strangers that smell of dragon. You would be better to take your chance with them.”

He allowed himself a short moment to see her expression shift from defensive to surprised, before turning his back to her swiftly and finally walking away, letting a smile creep at the corner of his mouth.

That was unexpected.

“You think you can protect him? Ha! He will fall, girl, you are powerless against their wits. Grief plagues you all, but so do teeth and claws. Maybe wings will cover his tomb?”

The blind woman's voice kept ringing in her ears as she walked down the main avenue. Protect him? Protect him from what? From who? Was it her brother, she had asked. Was it Daemion? But the woman had not answered her, only mocked her further.

"One candle burns as the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn and see your heart within it, your future."

What had she meant?

Daera raised her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the enormous roof of the Dragonpit over a nearby building. She began walking again, carefully staying in the dark and avoiding every person she would cross paths with.

The seer had called to her, asked her to approach, but when Daera had said that she had nothing to offer, taking the woman for a beggar, she had seen the white of her eyes and felt compelled to go to her. The old woman had then passed her hand over her face before laughing and speaking mysterious words, taunting her. Should she even take her seriously?

But against all odds, it was not the most peculiar encounter she had made this evening, and wondered if maybe, the night had more in store for her.

The hooded man that had inexplicably materialised behind her, listening in to the incomprehensible words that were spoken to her, had unsettled her and now occupied her thoughts as she climbed the steps to the Dragon Pit. He was tall and lean, from what she had seen. His voice was soft, but firm, and obviously rather cold as he spoke and she wondered if he always sounded so scathing.

She had only seen his jawline in the dark, the rest of his face hidden from her, but she found herself more intrigued by him than by the blind woman's words. And the smell, sandalwood mixed with smoke. But it was the distinctive scent of dragon that had her eagerly curious. It was the exact same smell as when Princess Rhaenys came back from a ride with Meleys, or as Laenor had once, or as Laena did. Was he a Dragonkeeper? Or maybe just a worker there? Maybe she had been wrong completely, and had mistaken the scent for another odour. But he had not denied it, rather had looked unphased when she had pointed it out. She might think of every possibility but her instincts already knew the truth.

She wondered what the odds were of meeting two Targaryen Princes in one night.

Chapter 2

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Tag list: @knightprincess@baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch @lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy (sorry I forgot to tag you in the prologue)

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #smut #slowburn #hotd fanfic #fanfic #dark aemond #dark!aemond x oc #usermyfandomprompts #aemondedit #aemond x velaryon #tria #triafic

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runningmunson · 1 year

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The Rise

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Velaryon/Strong!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: You are the eldest and only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and supposed father, Leanor Velaryon. When your family arrived back to King's Landing to defend your brother's claim to Driftmark, you are once more reunited with your uncle and bethrothed, Aemond, who you have a close bond with. After insulting your family at dinner, he makes it up to you later that night. This is the rise of your relationship but with every rise there must come a fall. Warnings: Fighting, angst, hurt/comfort, incest, implied sex but no smut, fluff, *Translations at the end* Part 1/2

Masterlist

“My love, it has been far too long since you have graced my presence,” Aemond said with a grin as you pushed past your brothers in the courtyard to greet your betrothed. He grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on your knuckles. You could hear Jace and Luke scoff at the gesture.

“You’re taller than I last remember,” you said with a straight face before cracking a smile. And more handsome, you thought. Time had been kind to him.

He gave his sword to Ser Criston and turned to offer you his arm. “Come now, let us catch up.”

Being the oldest child and only daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, it made sense that your grandsire would call for your betrothal to Aemond. He saw it as a way to repair and strengthen the bond between the two families. Viserys also took notice of the closeness you shared with your uncle.

This wasn’t to say that your mothers didn’t vehemently disagree with this match. Alicent disagreed with it because of your striking resemblance to that of Ser Harwin Strong. You had brown hair and fair skin, looking nothing like your father and only sharing your mother’s violet eyes. Your own mother disagreed with it because she knew how manipulative the Greens could be, and she didn’t want to put you in any danger.

Despite both of your mothers' shared dislike of one another, you and Aemond had been joined at the hip the second you could walk, you being two years younger than him. Wherever you went, the other wasn’t far behind. He was always there to protect you, and you were always there to defend him.

A common thing you both shared was not having your dragon egg hatch, leaving you a Targaryen without a dragon. It was what truly solidified your bond. He was made fun of by his own brother and yours more than you, but that didn’t completely leave you out of the jokes.

You were there for him when they told him they had a dragon, only to call forth a pig with paper wings. That time ended in Aegon having a bloody lip and Jace a sprained wrist as you retaliated. You tried to reason with your mother that you only did it because they were cruel to Aemond, but that didn’t stop you from your punishment of a week without them. A week without them meant a week of boring needlepoint with Helaena- not that your aunt was boring, you just didn’t enjoy embroidering pictures.

You were also there when he lost his eye. It was when you were all gathered for your aunt's funeral, and while you knew deep down it was the wrong thing to do, you reminded Aemond that Vhagar no longer had a rider. You knew how much not having a dragon wounded his pride and made him insecure, so you encouraged him to try and claim her. Never did you think a fight between you and Aemond and your brothers and cousins would ensue. Luke had a broken nose, and you broke your hand, but Aemond paid the highest price and lost his eye.

When Viserys demanded you all tell him what happened, you were the first to step up and defend Aemond, much to the disappointment of your own family. It took a long time for them to forgive you. But you can’t say it wasn’t all worth it because you finally gained the respect of the Queen. When Aemond was attended to by the maesters, you stayed by his side and held his hand as they stitched him up. You and his mother wept, but he discouraged that, letting you know that gaining the largest dragon was worth losing an eye.

In return for your unfailing support and confidence that he would one day be a dragon rider, he helped you gain your own dragon, Grey Ghost. He flew you on Vhagar in search of a dragon. Once you heard rumors of a pale gray riderless dragon on Dragonstone, he didn’t hesitate to take you there and waited outside while you ventured into the cave. He grew nervous the longer it took, and right before he was about to find you, you flew out of the cave on the back of Grey Ghost. Aemond quickly jumped on Vhagar, and you rode side by side. When you found a secluded spot to land on, Aemond was quick to get off Vhagar and embrace you, proud of your accomplishment.

That day you declared it your spot. The place where you both finally became dragon riders.

---

Your grandsire, the King, wished to have all of his family to be together as one. He asked that there be a family meal. It wasn’t hard to miss the tension in the air when everyone looked uncomfortable and shifted in their seats.

However, everything was going okay despite what was expected. Especially when your mother and the Queen toasted to one another. Only one small moment had to ruin the dinner after Viserys had left, and it was due to your brothers poor choice of judgment.

You glared toward Jace and Luke when a pig was brought out and set before Aemond. You watched as he stared at it coldly. Your hand reached for his, but he roughly pulled it away. He stood up and slammed his fist on the table, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“Aemond, please don’t,” you whispered, but your plea proved futile.

He raised his cup, “Final tribute to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… Strong.”

You looked toward the Queen and saw her expression matched yours. “Aemond,” she warned.

Aemond ignored both of you and continued, “Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

All hell broke loose after that. Jace threw a punch at Aemond while Aegon slammed Luke on the table. Jace was shoved on the ground, and that was when the guards finally got involved in breaking up the fight.

Alicent walked up to Aemond and took hold of his arm, “Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother. Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs,” he smirked and pulled out of her grasp.

You can’t say you didn’t see this coming but anger still got the better of you. While you knew it was unladylike, you walked up to your betrothed and smacked him across the face before storming out of the room.

You could hear the sound of your stepfather, Daemon, laughing in the background and your mother commanding your brothers to go to their room. You could also hear the sound of footsteps right behind you.

“(Y/N), get back here right now,” he demanded, anger present in his voice. You chose to ignore him just like he ignored you and kept walking. “I command you to stop.”

You did as you were told and stopped, turning around to face Aemond. You grabbed his hand and pulled him into an empty room. “Command me? You command me, Aemond? Just who do you think you are talking to?”

“Am I not still your Prince? Or have you forgotten your place?” Aemond spits out. He didn’t wish to talk to you in this way or assert authority, but he was angry, and you were the closest person to let it all out on.

“Do you not understand that by questioning the legitimacy of my brothers you are also calling into question my own? You know as well as I who my real father is, so is this what you really want? For my brothers and I to be labeled as bastards? You know our betrothal would be called off! Your mother would send me away the first chance she gets,” you yelled at him as you poked him in the chest, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

After you said that, it finally clicked for him why you were so upset. Usually, you would defend him against your brothers, but he realized now that he had insulted you. “I- I acted out of anger, and for that, I am sorry for the hurt I have caused you. I truly did not think of the possible repercussions of my words.”

“You never do, Aemond. You know, for someone so clever, you can also be so stupid. If you truly love me the way you say you do, then I suggest you push aside your petty need for revenge and keep your mouth shut. Now, if you’ll allow it, I would like to retire to my room for the night,” you didn’t give him time to answer and walked out of the room. Insulting my family, humiliating me, then commanding me? He can stew over this all night for all I care, you thought.

---

Aemond couldn’t sleep knowing you were finally under the same roof again and upset with him. He lay awake for hours as he thought about how much you all had changed. He couldn't help but wondered if anything had changed between the two of you. He crept out of his chambers and made his way to yours.

When he reached your door, he hesitated to knock, afraid he might wake you up, afraid you might still be angry at him for earlier. But he yearned for your touch and to hear your sweet voice he missed so dearly.

It didn’t take more than two knocks for the door to fly open. Your face was like stone when you saw Aemond at your door but softened when you saw how apologetic he looked, knowing he rarely shows how he truly feels. “I was wondering when you would stop by.”

“Am I that predictable?” Aemond smiled shyly. “I was going to ask if you wanted to join me on a ride, but I see that you are already ready to go.”

You and Aemond snuck out of the castle to the dragon pit. It took you back to when you were children and the many times you snuck out for a night ride on your dragons. You mounted Grey Ghost, and he mounted Vhagar and flew out into the night to your spot.

Aemond offered his hand in assistance to help you off your dragon once you landed. When your feet touched the sand, he took you into his arms. His hands found your face, “I cannot tell you how much I regret my previous actions. I know I hurt you, and I know I was wrong.”

“I am also sorry. I shouldn't have struck you,” you frowned.

“I can't say I didn't deserve it though,” he cracked a smile.

You laughed at his comment. “Now that much is true. You know I don’t condone what my brothers did back there, but I just wish you would put more thought into your words next time.”

“I know you don’t. And I will try to do better, but I do hope there is not a next time. Now come join me, I want to enjoy your presence before you leave me again,” he begged. You sat on the sand, and chills ran down your body at the feeling of the cold sand. Aemond placed you in between his legs and pulled you close. Your hair was brushed to the side, and you soon felt his lips on your neck.

He toyed at the laces of your dress, silently asking for permission to undo them. You shook your head, wanting him to continue. The dress slid off your shoulders and down your back. Your hands shot up to hide your breasts, suddenly embarrassed about the lack of clothing.

“Gaomagon daor ruaragon hen issa, issa jorrāelagon. Nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao,” Aemond spoke in your ancestral language. He took your hands in his and removed them from your body. His eyes took you in under the shining moonlight. He thought you couldn't look more beautiful at this moment.

He wanted to make sure you were alright with this continuing, not wanting you to come to regret it. He spoke softly once more, “Iksos bisa skoros ao jaelagon?”

“Nyke obūljarion nykēla naejot ao,” you said to him. You swung your legs to straddle him, and your lips soon met him. The only sounds present were breathy moans and the roaring of the sea as you gave him your body and soul.

“Run away with me,” you broke the comfortable silence when all was done.

Aemond turned to his side to look at you, “Hmm?”

“We have dragons now. We can go wherever we want and explore the world. Just the two of us like we always said we would when we were children,” you said, running your fingers through his silky hair.

His lips turned into a faint smile, “A lot has changed since then. You know we cannot do that. Your mother would definitely come looking for me. I would assume she would think I kidnapped you."

“Now that she probably would.” You laughed.

Aemond stroked up and down your back, making you shiver. “What if we marry before you leave King’s Landing again? That way we no longer have to be apart. I can’t bear the thought of it again.”

“I think you also know we cannot do that either. Besides, it’s not up to us when we marry but your father. And you know my mother will need me once she gives birth.”

“Just wishful thinking, my love,” he pulled you close, trying to keep you warm from the cool ocean breeze.

You and Aemond stayed on the beach and drifted off to sleep, now forever intertwined as one. And when the first light shone, you flew off together in the morning light to say proper goodbyes, rising to new heights in your love and blissfully unaware of the fall to come.

Translations:

Gaomagon daor ruaragon hen issa, issa jorrāelagon. Nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao- Do not hide from me, my love. I want to see you.

Iksos bisa skoros ao jaelagon- Is this what you want?

Nyke obūljarion nykēla naejot ao- I surrender myself to you.

---

Taglist: @cullenswife , @rebelfleur22 , @boomhauer

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff

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emillyverse · 1 month

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Some warnings + Chapter 1 Progress!!!!!

HELLO MY LOVELY STARS!!!

You didn't expect to see me updating KoW so soon, did you???

I usually post updates on Saturday or Sunday, but I'll be traveling so I decided to leave the previews today.

In fact, this trip is the warning I have to give. I will be away from my work desk and my materials for a few days (I don't know exactly how many but between one and two weeks), therefore I will not be able to make progress on the Comic during this period.

This is sad I know. But look on the bright side, I'm going to get a lot of rest and return to work with renewed energy!!!

✨YAYYYYYY !!!✨

Anyway, without further ado, let's get to what everyone wants to see:

THE CONTINUATION OF THE OUTLINES OF CHAPTER 1 OF "THE KINGDOM OF WISHES"

( Written by @annymation , design by @uva124 )

Check out part 1 here.

"The two brothers grew up and, with their father's teachings, became powerful sorcerers."

"But when the big day arrived, Florian was crowned king, as Magnus still didn't feel confident and claimed that something was missing in his life; something that gave him strength and courage!"

"It was then that Magnus met Amaya."

"The most beautiful maiden he had ever seen had been found adrift in a boat and taken shelter in the castle by order of King Florian."

"As a form of gratitude for the hospitality, Amaya began to serve the court as a royal alchemist and, as the days went by, she ended up winning Magnus' heart, finally making him feel like he could do...anything".

"Encouraged by his new love, Magnus decided to travel in search of adventure, leaving the kingdom to prosper in Florian's hands."

"But then, a tragedy happened. When Magnus returned to Rosas he discovered that his brother had passed away due to illness. A painful loss for the entire kingdom, which was made worse by Florian not having legitimate heirs"

"Magnus was moved. He could not let the magnificent legacy of his beloved brother and predecessors end like this."

"Feeling confident with Amaya by your side, Magnus took over the throne and changed the way wishes were granted monthly, doing dozens of them a week, making them float back to your Wish Makers, during the night"

The Kingdom was so happy and grateful that they began to name their new rulers with nicknames that reflected their magnificence and passion, thus making them known as King Magnífico and Queen Amable.

"The end".

Sabino: "I admire your taste in complex stories, Asha, but... Hmm...Don't you think this is too complicated for you?"

Asha: "I thought it was a fantasy book, but it's just romance. Yuck!”

Sabino: "Never judge a book by its cover, darling! What you have here is a history book."

Asha: "But he doesn't explain things very well.Where does Queen Amaya come from? And the king's staff?What disease did Florian die from?"

Sabino: "Well, Asha, let's see..."

"First, the queen is very private about her past, we have to respect that."

"Second. That staff is just a souvenir the king got on his travels."

Sabino: "And third. Sometimes bad things just... happen... without explanation."

"And there's nothing we can do about it."

"Unless you move on..."

To be continued...

FORGIVE FOR ENDING WITH AN ANGUISH DRAWING 🥺🥺

BUT DESPITE THAT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!

And understood. Remembering that, like Anny, I'm Brazilian, but unlike her, I don't understand English and I'm always using Google translate, so maybe there are some mistakes. But Anny and you are always welcome to point out mistakes and correct me!

That's it for today and until after my little vacation Lmao 😅 I'll still be online to answer any questions or curiosities you may have, or simply to see posts and rewrites in which they mark me. I love interacting with this fun and tight-knit community of Wish Concept Art fans!

Anyway, goodbye!!

Kisses full of light and stars!

~Emy

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notyour-valentine · 7 months

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Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 14 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: No Tommy but Charlotte and Lizzie - Chazzie...Lilotte?

If interested, you can check out this post for more about Charlotte

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Wordcount: 5140 words

Part 14

Charlotte felt like her head could explode any minute now. It was like a kettle ready to hiss and whistle just with nowhere for the air to escape, so it would shake and tremble more and more until the material would simply give in.

And her seams were ripping, as of course, this was the topic of conversation at dinner. How could it not be?

“Only a few years ago, this would have been unthinkable.”, her father said, his voice strained with suppressed outrage. Her father was not one to shout, and would not do in this instance. He maybe just wouldn't be too hard on someone that this matter brought to shouting, so deeply ran his resentment and shock.

“A field marshall assassinated at the Derby, in the presence of their Majesties!”

His voice almost cracked on the final word.

Yes, she thought. The King had been there too, and the Queen. She had almost forgotten. Then again, most of the day seemed like a blur to her now, a wash of white and brown and grey, in contrast to the inescapable.

“I’ve heard it was the Irish.”, Mary said over some wonderful creation of carrot mousse and seabass that tasted like nothing but cardboard to her and her alone, as she forced herself to choke down bite by bite. It was little enough, but the last thing she wanted was their attention on her.

If they look, they'll know. “How could it not be the Irish?", Edith argued. "After all he did to those poor people in Cork!”.

She said it as if it was something everyone would know, which naturally ticked Mary off.

For once, she didn't mind their squabble. Fight, she thought, fight so no one remembers I'm here.

She was too old to crawl in her mother's bed and disappear in her arms, to hide between her parents and let their warmth and love melt away her night terrors.

She was too old for that, and her terrors were worse and more shocking than any nightmare of hers had ever been. And since she could no longer melt into their embrace, she just wanted to disappear, to simply vanish until the world made sense again. “Whatever are you talking about?”, Mary snapped, almost rolling her eyes at Edith, who smirked in triumph.

“Don’t you ever read the newspapers?”, she asked. "Even you might learn something."

"Girls-", their mother warned under her breath. “It seems Branson has rubbed off on you.", Mary said, fighting Edith's smugness with performative disinterest.

Yet it was Charlotte who was cut by her words as the mention of his name only hammered down Sybil’s absence.

She could not run to her mother, could not confide in Mary, not in anyone - even Sybil was a stretch, but there was still a chance.

If anyone, then Sybil. But she wasn't here. She was across the sea, safe and untouched by all of this.

“It has nothing to do with him.”, Edith argued, not wanting to let this go “I don’t condone the attack, obviously, but we shouldn’t pretend like he was a saint either, now just because he is dead." “Edith,”, their father said sternly, “Russell has served this country during many wars, including the Boer War, might I remind you, with distinction."

Sir Richard scoffed.

“I hear he has a reputation for vulgarity.”

Robert shot him down with a glare. “He was a soldier in service to his king and this country and deserves every ounce of respect. And for him to be butchered by Irish terrorists is not only a tragedy but also a scandal for our nation."

The knife slipped from her grasp and clattered onto her plate, before sliding off and disappearing under the table.

“Apologies.”, she mumbled quickly, rushing to bend down to hide her face.

It was a small mercy and all she got, a split second to breathe and compose herself, to pretend the storm inside her wasn't raging.

“I think it’s far time to change the topic of conversation!”, her mother said at once.

Robert cleared his throat and looked over at her. “You’re right. This is no topic for the ladies.”, he said, his blue eyes softening with care and affection.

She quickly looked away. “It’s fine.”, she said, trying her best to sound convincing, at which she failed miserably.

“I know it’s ghoulish, but I am so relieved you left early.”, her mother said softly, shaking her head.

“Yes,”, Robert agreed, “How is Miss Stark?”

Cora had informed him that an acquaintance of Charlotte's had gotten ill from a heatstroke and that she had taken her home. He had been displeased at her absence, but the chivalrous compassion had eased his disapproval. Then of course, Russell's body had been discovered and the world turned on its head.

Charlotte swallowed hard and glanced at her mother.

Her eyes were wide alert, as if she was ready to jump in if she should fail, but still gave her the room to try.

“She is quite exhausted, so I presume she is asleep."

Not that she was in any state for dinner, despite it obviously being offered. Instead, Mrs Hughes had taken her a tray.

"She said she wanted to catch a train tomorrow after breakfast. I’d like to take a car to accompany her to the station.”

“Of course.”, Cora quickly said.

In the light of the ban on today’s incidents, the remaining conversation was rather limited, and the fact that she was permitted to remain in silence instead of being roped into the discussion was both blessing and curse.

But the quiet only made it worse, for that way all of Miss Stark’s words echoed louder and louder in her head.

Cora soon began to talk about the hospital garden fair, which only reminded her of the fact that her own hospital work, which had been lined up and planned meticulously. She hadn't wanted to put a foot wrong.

When dinner was over and they moved to the drawing room, Charlotte counted the minutes until she could excuse herself.

More than ever before, did she miss Sybil. If she could tell a soul, she could have told her…she could have and Sybil would have supported her, helped her, let her be angry or soothed her tears.

She didn't know whether she wanted to scream or cry, but right now she was allowed nothing. Just - terror. Thankfully most of them chalked her behaviour down to today’s events, and she was soon sent off to bed to get some rest. As if any sleep would come to her ever again.

That’s not even a lie, Charlotte thought bitterly, her hand trembling on the banister as she crept up, feeling more like a ghost than a person.

How much a world could change from noon to night.

Despite the hurricane of her thoughts, her feet proved reliable allies, carrying her to her bedroom.

It felt foreign to her now, from the pale mint green colour of the curtains, to the pillows chosen to match. The way the mattress dented when she sat down, the feeling of the sheets, the way the street lamps flickered in the distance - all of it was foreign. But was it the world that was foreign now, or her?

She could hear the sounds of her breath, her chest rising and falling with shallow, faint huffs as her hands trembled.

If only she was brave enough to scream.

But she wasn't, and so silence was her only option, silence and confused agony, like a hunted animal that didn't know where the arrows came from. Only she had already been struck, and was bleeding out by the minute.

She forced her eyes shut to banish her tears and the thoughts that caused them.

It wasn't even her place to be angry at herself or pity herself, or both. What did she matter in all of this? In all Miss Stark had told her?

Compared to her, what right did she have to the chest-tightening feeling of bottomless betrayal?

So there was guilt to add to all those feelings too.

When she heard the knock on the door, she flinched up as if someone had struck her.

"Anna.", she said breathlessly. "I didn't ring yet."

Anna shook her head.

"Milady, a Mr. Shelby came to the backdoor to speak to you. I thought you might prefer it not being announced by Mr. Carson so I told him to wait there."

Charlotte felt her stomach drop, and her heart with it until there was only an icy, bottomless pit inside her.

I can’t see him. I can’t speak to him. I don’t want to. I can’t.

Like a frozen flower, she would shatter in his mere presence.

But she couldn’t say that to Anna. She would have to explain herself, and she couldn’t.

She had thought keeping him there was a kindness, given all she had told her of her activities with his charity, or what he had made her believe to be that.

If she didn't comply now, Anna would have her questions why.

Worse, she might ask Mary, and her sister would stop at nothing -

Charlotte cleared her throat and looked down, smoothing down the fabric of her dress.

She had no choice.

Unless she wanted to say the unspeakable and explain the inexplicable, she had to go down.

"Stay with me?", she asked, her voice trembling just slightly, betraying her to someone who knew her for nearly all her life.

"Of course, Milady.", she said, offering her a small smile, but it didn't reach Anna's eyes. For that, she could read her too well.

So she quickly moved ahead, unable to stand the piercing gaze.

But every step felt like she was dragging the weight of the world with her.

Still, despite everything, she was a Crawley. She had to be brave. There was no other option.

The servant's staircase spared her the knowing and judging gaze of her ancestors on the walls, but instead she saw a few curious glances of the servants as Anna led her out.

Of course Anna had thought of bringing along one of her scarves.

She wore it like a coat of armour, because it was the only protection she could have.

Taking a deep breath, like poor Jane Grey stepping out onto the Tower Green, she opened the door to the back entrance.

She smelled the smoke before she saw the glimmer of the cigarette, and then the man flicking it away.

His tie needle reflected in the light of the lantern, then the blonde of his hair. “John.”

His name slipped from her lips like a cry of shock.

She had feared, but expected Tommy, and now on consideration perhaps even Arthur, but not John. Never John. He was the last one she had thought to come and seek her out.

But here he was, looking up at her with wide blue eyes.

“You live here?”, he asked surprised, his eyes wide with awe as he looked up the facade, the stucco, the countless windows.

“When in London, yes.”, Charlotte said, as she approached him slowly.

Arthur’s Arthur. He can’t help it, really. But John- John has a good heart.

He held his hat in his hands and shifted uncomfortably from one step to the other.

The hat, she remembered.

“Ahm, where is Lizzie?”, he asked, the way she imagined a schoolboy would inquire after his friend.

“Upstairs.”, Charlotte said. The mention of her sent a surge of defiance through her, like a second coat of iron out of the necessity of protecting the woman, but that also protected her in turn.

"She’s sleeping.”

“D-doesn’t she want to go home?”, he asked, glancing up as if he could look through the walls and windows into the guest bedroom.

“Not tonight.”

John nodded, taking a deep breath, his mouth contorting. “How is she?”, he wanted to know, barely glancing up at her. He couldn't meet her gaze fully, but he couldn't look away either. For that, he cared too much.

And Miss Stark cared about him too. She had told her as much, about John, and his children and the wedding. About how he still tried his best to care for her after. About how he was good, one of the good ones, Charlotte. One of the boys they sent. A boy, not a man. Not like Arthur and Tommy. Once she had feared the sharpness of his eyes, the cruelty in his words, the way he made her feel small and stupid and useless, but now Miss Stark’s assessment, as little as it was, was all she had to hold onto.

She cared about him, and he cared about her. So Charlotte chose to answer. “I don’t know. Hurt. Tired. Angry."

She sighed once more, leaning against the doorframe.

"She didn’t want to see a doctor.”

Perhaps he could make her see sense.

“Course not.”, he mumbled to himself.

Then his blue eyes met his. “Thanks, Charlotte. I know you and Lizzie…”

As he spoke, he turned his cap in his hands and when the light hit it right, she saw the light glimmer in the reflection.

Oh, she thought. Oh no.

She had forgotten all about that part, the fact getting lost in the tirade of terror, but it came rushing back, turning her stomach and making bile rise in her throat.

“That doesn’t matter now.”, she said quickly. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“They wouldn’t.”, he argued. “And I’m sorry for…you know.”

Charlotte nodded once more. “It’s fine.”

For a moment silence hung between them. “Tommy’s outside. He’s also worried about Lizzie.”

“I see.”, Charlotte said, the pain that was already pounding in her chest, getting even worse, so bad she felt her entire insides were ignited with agony. “I doubt Miss Stark will want to see him anytime soon.”

“And what about you?” I never want to see him again. I never want to talk to him again. I never ever want to think about him again! Granny was right. This was a terrible, terrible mistake.

If she could wipe him from her memory, she would in a heartbeat.

“I can’t go out now.”, she said, blinking away her tears. “It’s late and very cold.”

John saw right through her excuse.

“Has she…”, he began slowly, “has she said…”

“She told me enough, John.”, Charlotte said firmly, building herself up to her full height, “Miss Stark told me quite enough."

There was no sleep for her that night, and she guessed probably not for many nights to come. Her thoughts were too loud, the pictures Miss Stark painted too vivid and horrid and horrific to allow her much rest.

When Anna came with the morning tea, Charlotte was already up, with a scarf around her shoulders instead of her robe. She had left that with Miss Stark.

What a foolish, useless little thing in light of what had happened, what had happened to her.

"Has Miss Stark been woken yet?", She asked, avoiding Anna’s look. She felt the blonde woman would read her at any glance, would need only one look and see the truth of it all.

She probably knew about the real cause of Miss Stark’s distress already. That was why Mrs Hughes and her mother asked Anna for help. She was kind and discreet, and a soul they all could trust.

"About now, I think.", Anna said. “I’ve sent Lily up with a tray.”

"I think I will go and see her before getting ready for breakfast."

It was an improper thing to do, and so Anna helped her into a day-dress as quickly as she could, even skipping the stockings. She would only be going down the hall after all.

“There, Milady. Good enough I’d say.”, she said with her cheerful tone, as she smoothed down her hair just barely.

With that, she stilled her hands, her eyes finding hers in the reflection of the mirror.

“The last day has been quite distressing for you hasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question as much as a medical diagnosis.

She had known her since she was a little girl and knew things about her that Mary and Edith missed. She had been taking care of her too long for her to miss things like these, even if she managed to conceal them from her sisters.

“Well, denial would be futile, so…”

She broke off and shook her head.

“I’ll just be glad to be home.”

That wasn’t even half a lie. She wanted to go home, to be back in Downton, to breathe Yorkshire air and be surrounded by her home as far as the eye could see.

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”, she said, the words heavier than the normal empty courtesy.

"Thank you, Anna.”

But there are things I couldn't even tell you if I wanted to.

Leaving Anna to tidy, she left her room and walked the short distance to where Miss Stark had been put up in. She found her resting against the pillows, staring at the tea tray over her lap as if it was a wild animal ready to bite her nose off.

Charlotte made a point of not looking at the swelling of her lip.

Lily was with her, standing by the window.

"Good morning, Milady!", She greeted, dropping into a small curtsy.

"I was just asking Miss Stark what to do about clothes for today since she doesn't have any luggage."

No, Charlotte thought, there was no luggage, and the clothes she had worn, well, they had been reduced to tatters on the bathroom floor. Anna had helped her cover that up.

"She can have a pick of anything I brought.", she offered. “Try to pick out a few options of anything long.”

Miss Stark was a good deal taller than she was.

With that, Lily left with a gentle "Yes, Milady."

The door closed behind her, leaving Charlotte and the other woman alone.

The silence made her thoughts and the abstract fear they caused ring louder, echoing in her ears.

"Is this…normal?", Miss Stark asked, waving at the tray of tea, biscuits and orange slices.

"Well,", she said softly, sitting down on the chaise lounge. "Mine didn’t have orange slices."

Miss Stark huffed, and Charlotte couldn’t tell if it was a sign of success or failure at her attempt of lightening the situation.

When her fingers touched the porcellian, they trembled.

"How's the tea?", she asked, playing with the edge of her scarf.

"It's good.", Miss Stark mumbled, staring into it as if she hoped to see the future in the china.

"Did you sleep?"

She shook her head, which was understandable.

"Did you?"

Her response was the same.

What can I say?, She wondered, her chest tightening. What even is there to say?

The knock on the door surprised them both, especially when Charlotte saw who it revealed.

"Good morning, Mama!", She said, getting up from the bed and kissing her cheek.

Her mother looked to have had the same thoughts she had, to see Miss Stark as soon as she woke up. She wore a pale blue tea gown, the old kind with the wide cuts, flowing fabric and big pockets that was from before the war. It was far from the latest fashion but she had a preference for robes like these.

"Apologies, Miss Stark.", She said, "I heard you'd planned to take the early train and I couldn't let you go in good conscience without at least checking up on you."

Miss Stark was staring up at her with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

"Ahm- good morning.", She mumbled, before trying to remove the tea tray in order to get up in a rush.

“Oh no need for that!”, her mother said swiftly. “We’re the one invading your bedroom this morning, aren’t we?”, she said, taking Charlotte’s arm.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Milady.”, Miss Stark told the teacup.

A sense of sadness washed over her mother’s face.

"Oh please, you could never be a bother, Miss Stark. You have all of us quite a scare. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to see a doctor? We can arrange it, easily. Quietly. We’d take care of it all, and there would be no risk to your reputation.”

"No Doctor, please.", Miss Stark said sharply.

Her mother, Lady Grantham, sighed.

"Alright, but I'll send up Anna to see to your cuts again, yes? The same ointment Mrs Hughes gave you yesterday.”

To that, she agreed.

"Good.”, her mother said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Now what do we do about clothes?"

"Oh, Miss Stark- will borrow some of my things."

Her mother looked at her as if she had suggested something ludicrous. “Nonsense, darling. Miss Stark won't fit into your clothes. I'll have the maids take some of Mary's things."

"Mary will hate that!", Charlotte said. And she would demand to know why -

She already had far too much going on to dare getting Mary upset at her now.

"I'll handle Mary.", Her mother assured her, "Don't you worry one bit, Miss Stark. After breakfast, we'll have the car ready to take you to the station, whenever you need, whether that is this morning, today or tomorrow."

"Thank you, Milady.", Miss Stark said. "For everything."

"No need.", She assured her, before cupping Charlotte's cheek.

"I'm very proud of you, darling.”

In that moment, for a split second, the world was alright again, but as soon as her mother left, she felt herself falling into that icy pit again.

They wouldn’t be proud if they knew what she knew now. They’d be so enraged and appalled, shocked and horrified - just as she was now. And she felt so very stupid.

"Your mother's lovely.", Miss Stark said softly, once the door was closed again.

"Yes.", Charlotte admitted breathlessly. Lovely and completely in the dark of the foolishness of her youngest daughter.

Miss Stark shook her head, biting her lip as she did.

"Fuck.", She groaned, as she dropped her head into her hands. "Fucking hell, Charlotte!"

The swearing made her jump. But could she blame Miss Stark for her choice of words?

"What's wrong?", She wanted to know, rushing towards her. "What did I do? What did Mama do?"

"Nothing!", she snapped. "That's the whole fucking point."

She ran a hand through her hair.

"You're…you're not like us - fuck - I never should have said a thing.”

“No,”

Now it was her voice to add sharpness.

“It was far time I knew.”

All this pain, confusion and betrayal she felt was infinitely better than the puppet on a string she had been before, oblivious and foolish, pouring her heart, soul and energy into his castle of clouds that he conjured up only to lure her in.

It all seemed so obvious now, of course. So blatantly, tragically obvious. And the worst part was, others had seen it while she had deluded herself, and would have continued to do so if Miss Stark hadn’t told her.

Home did not bring the relief she had hoped for. Maybe, it even made it worse, as she had never missed Sybil more than now.

Sybil would listen, without laughing, without being shocked or horrified. She would listen without judging. No 'I told you so's, no 'you should have known's, no 'How could you be so foolish?'s.

But Sybil wasn't here. She was gone, off to Ireland with Branson - she could scratch his eyes out for that now more than ever!

Charlotte tried to write to her but every time she tried to put it into words she failed miserably. It never sounded right, it never captured her thoughts properly. And even putting these things in writing felt like a crime of their own.

And she burned each and every piece of paper until her room smelled of nothing but smoke.

She couldn't telephone her either. Sybil didn't have a telephone now and she couldn't dare being overheard. So she was all alone, alone with her thoughts.

She went riding before breakfast so as to avoid the conversation, and took long walks in the afternoon.

But no matter how fast or far she galloped, she couldn't outrace her thoughts. Her betters had tried and failed at that, her grandmother informed her with a sharp quip.

Sleeping was difficult as well, because sometimes she would dream.

The nightmares were bad, but the other dreams were worse, those in which it was just them together, those of work and pride, when her research bled into the realm of her dreams. In those dreams, they got along, which made her want to drown herself in her shame at her own mind’s betrayal.

Her family all thought she was upset about the field marshall, with her mother perhaps taking Miss Stark, Lizzie now as she insisted she call her, into account. And in a way they were right.

Tommy killed him.

Tommy shot him in the head with his own gun and killed him.

Tommy made Lizzie lure the man away, who hurt her and then Tommy shot him in the head with his own gun and killed him.

Because that's what Tommy does. He kills people. He hurts people. He blinds people. He uses his own brothers like soldiers.

Lizzie had told her.

That and so much more.

The man she admired, the man she had been so desperate to impress, the man who had made her feel more useful and valued than any other person in her whole life. And for what?

She hadn’t understood who the inspector was, or what that had to do with guns and the IRA and a barmaid. But she had known Mr Churchill - how relieved she had felt when hearing his name, a small sliver of familiarity in the chaos of Lizzie’s words, only for that to be turned on it’s head.

Advantage was what she had said. Insurance.

During the meals, she tried to keep to herself as much as possible and avoid conversation.

There was always something more important than her to discuss and she happily let them.

Right now, the topic of the week was the garden party for the hospital.

Now, with the war over, it has come up again.

"I doubt anyone would be comfortable after what happened last time.", her mother said.

What a different time that had been. What a different world.

"We don't need reminding."

"It gives the village an opportunity to show unity in support for the hospital, especially after the war.", Granny insisted.

"On that we agree.", Isobel said. "Speaking of hospitals- Charlotte, how are your preparations going?"

Charlotte glanced up, confused at what she was asking.

"Preparations for what?", her mother asked.

Isobel responded and in her answer, reminded her.

"Charlotte is set to meet with a few doctors for the children's hospital in Birmingham next week."

The wine in her glass trembled just slightly

That seemed a lifetime ago now. Or maybe a life that wasn't her own. One of make-believe and stupidity.

"I've been helping her prepare."

Isobel smiled at her and she tried to smile back, but the muscles in her face fought the motion.

"If I can give you one bit of advice, talk to the nurses. They know more about the day-to -day runnings of the hospital than the doctors."

"Naturally you would say that.", Granny quipped.

"When are you going?", her mother wanted to know.

Charlotte cleared her throat and glanced down at her hands. They were still trembling.

"The meeting is next Tuesday.", She said softly.

"Are you sure you should be going?”, Cora asked, a line of concern between her brows.

"I think she most certainly should.", Isobel argued. "It is her project and she is very well prepared."

"I disagree.", her father said said, "Charlotte should take some time to rest, especially after the shock."

Don't I know it, she thought bitterly.

"But some distraction might do her good.", Isobel argued.

"I agree with Robert.", Matthew said uncommonly forcefully, "besides, there are a great many causes and distractions closer to Downton. I've heard there is an organisation in Ripon that specialises in helping children with reading difficulties."

"Goodness- how intriguing!", Mary scoffed, her eyes finding the back of her head.

"The last thing Charlotte should do is take on another cause!", Granny argued. "She’s a lady, and they’re working her like a ploughhorse."

"Although I must protest your comparison, I agree that she already has a cause and a very worthy one at that.", Isobel said.

It was Edith who spoke up next.

"I'm sorry, but Charlotte, do you even want to go?”

That made them all fall silent and Charlotte wished they would have continued to fight, but now all eyes were on her.

The worst part was, now everyone knew that it was happening on Tuesday. And they would all wait for it.

"I, ahm, I don't know yet.", She said softly. "It depends, I guess."

That was an answer that made everyone at the table unhappy, giving neither side more ammunition, or another enemy to strike at.

Come next morning, she received a call just after breakfast.

"How are you?", She asked, like she had asked in every call.

"I'll manage.", The other woman replied. "What about you?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to manage.", She said truthfully, which made her chest tighten in shame. It should be the other way around. She had only heard of the bad things, Lizzie had been forced to live them.

"Look- about what I told you…"

"I'm glad you did, Lizzie, truly.", She said quickly.

There was silence for a while.

"So you went to work again.", Charlotte stated.

I wouldn’t have. I would have reported him to the police, and everyone else too.

"Yes."

"How was it?", She asked.

"He's walking on eggshells."

As he should.

Well, he should be in prison awaiting a trail at the King’s Court, not walking on eggshells, but that was the least he could do.

What he had done to her was cruel and so terribly heartless and Charlotte found it entirely unforgivable, but it wasn’t hers to forgive. It was Lizzie’s and so she kept her mouth shut in regards to the outrage she felt.

"Are you coming back?", Lizzie wanted to know after the screaming silence.

Charlotte sighed and rubbed her temple.

"I don't know, Lizzie.", She said truthfully. "I don't know anything anymore."

When she went out with the horse, she rode until she felt her lungs would burst, but neither the horse, nor the grass, trees or the wind could tell her an answer.

If Sybil was here, she could choose for me.

But she wasn’t and so Charlotte was all alone with her horses and the storm in her mind.

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

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#welcome to downton mr shelby #charlotte crawley #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #downton abbey #peaky blinders crossover #peaky blinders downton abbey crossover #wtdms

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writingintheshadowsforever · 1 year

Text

Namor Imagine Series Part 4

Your first day in Talokan could've went better. Namor revealed that you would be staying in the underwater cave. Where he initially kept Shuri and Riri prisoner, but the cave had been changed around to make it more homey. He wanted to ease into this new lifestyle and knew asking you to be in the underwater city capital would be too much. So for now you would call the cave system home which wasn't too bad.

It was when he was giving you a tour of the cave system showing you. Where his main space was located things took a turn for the worst. One of the generals walked into the room with a spear in hand. It was the woman you recognized as Namora. She took one look at you and spoke in their mother tongue to Namor.

He gestured for you to wait by the wall with the painting of his history on it. While he went off to the side to talk to his general. Without access to your kimoyo beads or Groi. There was no way for you to understand what their were saying. But the tones of their voices gave the topic of the conservation away. Namora sounded frustrated and would shoot you a menacing look every now and then. Namor sounded like he was doing his best to keep his cool, but you could see the muscles in his back tensing up. He was starting to lose his patience with her. The intense discussion went on for about five minutes before Namor finally snapped.

"She is your queen now you will give her the same respect. You give me" he roared angrily.

You flinched at the not only the volume of his voice, but the emotional intensity of his words as well. The only time you ever heard him sound so angry was when he invaded Wakanda, and while Namora was able to keep a straight face. You could see the hurt in her eyes. She felt betrayed.

Her beloved king who she has served for God knows how long just brought an outsider into her home. A man she trusted with her life just choose you. A woman of another nation that was just their enemy a few days ago over her. You made your way over to them placing a hand on Namor's shoulder.

"Namor can we talk for a quick second?" You asked him.

Namor didn't even bother to acknowledge you his eyes boring into his general's. As he waited for her to look away and back down. You could see Namora know had balled her hands into fists, and was doing her best not to tremble. This wasn't going to end well.

So you tried another tactic hoping it would work. You moved your body between them, and took his face in your hands with a firm grip. "My love I need to speak to you alone." It wasn't a request this time. Maybe it was the fact you used the same name of endearment that he used for you, or maybe it was the sharpness of your voice. Either way this time you got his attention as his eyes glanced down to meet yours. "Send her away please."

Namor gave her a quick command without hesitation. Namora turned and stalked out of the cave. The second she was gone you pulled away from him. "What was that?"

"I will not allow her or anyone else to disrespect you" Namor said. In his eyes did nothing wrong, but in yours he had done everything wrong.

"Namor you might be able to prance around Talokan with me on your hip, and declare that I'm the queen of your people. Without the civilians or the children putting up a fight or questioning things. But your army is a whole other story. There very job is to cautious of outsiders like me especially considering. They helped you lead an attack on my people just a few days ago. It's going to take time for me to win them over." You explained to him.

Namor took in every single one of your words, and gave you a nod. "Then what shall I do?

"Just let it happen naturally like this marriage remember. How you said we can learn to love each other."

"Yes."

"Well Namora and the others will learn to trust me you just have to give it time. I want this to work Namor and be as real as possible."

"I want the same thing" He said.

"Good so you're okay with holding off on the actual marriage part for now?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Namor frowned as the gears in his head started turning. "Are you trying to back out?" His voice got dangerously low.

You held eye contact with him not missing a beat when you answered. "No I wouldn't be here if I was going to do that. I will stay here and get to know you, your people, your way of life, and one day I will love Talokan as much as I love Wakanda. One day I will be willing to lay down my life for this place, and that will be the day we marry. I know you just wanted an alliance between our two nations, but you said it could be more. I want that Namor don't you."

Namor regarded you for a few seconds not giving away anything, and honestly he had you worried for a second. That he was going to laugh in your face and set the date of marriage for tomorrow. But then he let out a soft sigh. "It might take power to earn a throne, but the trust of your people is required to rule a nation."

"Is that your way of saying yes" You replied.

"Yes my queen I will give this time" He confirmed.

"Good thing I'm going to need you to do something for me then. While I'm down here earning the trust and love of your people."

His eyebrows furrowed in question as to what else you could want, but nevertheless Namor gestured for you to continue.

You knew he wasn't going to like what you were about to say, but you had to try at least. Your peace of mind depended on it.

"I need you to make peace with my mother."

#mcu imagine #marvel imagine #namor x reader #namor imagine

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darkbluekies · 11 months

Note

Hi blue! I hope you've been feeling well! If you don't mind, would you give us a sneak peek of what you're currently working on? I'm looking forward to whatever it is 💖💕

🥀

Here are some that I've started :)

Let's hope I'll finish them

The hedwig diaries: "I want to kill"

Dear diary, I want to kill and you have to believe it's more than just selfish reasons. I don't know what else to do. I respect everyone, why can't they respect me? Why does no one think that my relationship is serious? I love Y/N more than anything else in this entire world! Am I the only one seeing that? Certainly not, right?

Someone tried to approach them today in the cafeteria. I could see in an instant that he had no good intentions. I've tried to get Y/N to ditch the grotesque cafeteria food, but they won't hear me out … I can't for the life of me understand why. I've told them that I can get my chef to make lunchboxes for us both, but they squirm when I'm trying. I think it's because of what others will think. Y/N wants to blend in and not stand out. Being with me only complicates that. They told me once that if they would start eating food from my house, they'd stand out even more — people might even think they're a gold digger, that they're using me. I know Y/N, I know they're not. Why do they have to care what others think so badly?

Deja vu [Dr Kry x female reader]

He copies the telephone number from the page into his phone. His hands are trembling. He can’t believe that he’s going to speak with you again! Dr Kry walks out into the corridor and dials. He holds the phone to his ear, swallowing.

“Hello?”

Your sweet voice is enough to cause his legs to shake. He suddenly feels like a schoolboy again. Oh, how he hates it.

“Y/N …”, he whispers out when remembering how to speak.

Silence.

“Why are you calling me?” you ask harshly. “How did you get my number?!”

“Your son came into my office and-”

“Oh my God! Don’t touch him, please! Kry, please, he’s innocent.”

Hearing you plead like that again gives him the confidence back.

“Don’t freak out now”, he says. “I’m not going to hurt him. Better yet, I’ll cure him … but I won’t let him go unless you come here. Alone. And if you tell anyone I’ll cause an … accident. You’re familiar with those, aren't you?”

“You fucking madman, Kry!”

He smiles.

“So you’ll come?” he asks excitedly. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes then. I’ll be waiting.”

In our own world [king Edmund x female reader]

"Who were you talking to?" Edmund asks without looking up from his desk. "Fuck all of these papers make me insane!"

"It was the queen, your majesty", the guard answers.

Edmund snaps his head up, his heart skipping a beat. You've finally come to him?

"What did she want?" he asks quickly.

"She just wanted to speak with you", the guard answers. "Nothing more. She said that it could wait so I sent her away. I know how you said that you didn't want to be disturbed-"

"You fucking idiot! That rule implies for everyone but her. Go get her."

"Yes, your highness."

The guard runs out of the room, sensing that he's upset king. Edmund sighs frustratedly, shaking his head.

He returns with you by hid side just a minute later. Carefully, he walks out and shuts the door behind him. Edmund smiles fondly as he sees you.

"I heard you wanted to talk to me", he says softly.

"It was nothing important", you say.

"Yes, it was. Come here."

He pats his lap. You walk over to him slowly and sit down on his thigh. Edmund smiles and wraps his arm around your waist securely.

The balance of a youngster (might change the title) [Silas x reader]

You hide the bloody, crying boy behind you.

“How fucking low are you?!” you shout, unable to control your feelings. “That’s a child for fucks sake!”

You might not be able to stand up for yourself in his Hell house, but you can’t watch them hurt a little kid.

“Lower. Your. Voice.”

Too late. They freeze with their eyes stuck on Silas coming out behind them. You look at him over your shoulder, growing cold. You’ve disturbed his work.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Silas mutters. “I’m trying to work.” He caresses your shoulder protectively. “Baby, are you alright?”

“I’m okay”, you say. “But these men are hurting this little boy.”

He stands between you and the men. You grab the little boy and turn around to walk back inside.

“Boss, that little shit tried to grab my gun and run”, one of the men sighs.

“I don’t fucking care, alright?” Silas hisses and glances towards the back door to make sure you didn’t hear. “How stupid can you be to do this outside where people can hear? Especially Y/N! How many times have I told you to watch what you’re doing?!”

“We didn’t know they were allowed to walk freely around the house”, the other man says. “Honestly. We thought they were either locked in the basement or bedroom.”

Silas sighs heavily. “Idiots.”

Scaring me [Jerry x reader]

Carefully, she lifts your fingers to her plump lips and kisses it softly.

You look at the cabbage.

"Don't think about it", Jerry tells you. "You're not going to continue. This was a stupid idea. Why did I ever think it was okay for you to use a knife? I trust you too much. Fuck sake. You hurt yourself. Get out of the kitchen."

"It's just a little cut …", you say. "I wanted to make something special for you. I had it all planned …"

She cups your cheeks between her hands.

"I know, baby", she says comfortingly. "And I'm very grateful that you wanted to do something for me, but what kind of girlfriend am I if I let you get hurt, hm? My number one priority is to protect you."

"I know, but …"

"I'll continue this. Go sit down in the living room. People like you shouldn't be allowed into kitchens."

I'm planning to make a oneshot where you escape Hedwig too, but I haven't started it yet!!<33

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere stories #yandere teaser #yandere female #yandere doctor #yandere king #🥀 anon

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 8 months

Note

I'm not sure if you requests are open but can I please ask for a yandere Poseidon and Thor and Beelzebub (separate please) but how would they be in a relationship with kianna

Like NSFW and sfw if you're comfortable with that

By the way she is an OC of mine you can find more information about her on my page here on Tumblr and you don't have to take this request if you don't want to and sorry if requests are closed

Hello dear one, I read over your page and read over the different descriptions you have for Kianna, so I will do my best! I hope you enjoy.

-Poseidon- To him- you are perfection, scars and all. Nobody is worthy to gaze upon you like he is, if he had his way, he would keep you locked away to adore you every hour of every day he could. However, he knew that would upset you- and the last thing he wanted was for you to look upon him in angry or disgust. You were his queen, his own personally goddess, and it was his duty, as king, to keep you safe. He would escort you no matter where you went, even if it was just out for a café run, offering you his arm, showing to all around that you were taken and you were way out of their league. Poseidon had no issues proving this, proving to others, you, and himself that you were his love and Poseidon doesn’t share. If someone were to hurt you, like those from your past, luckily who are not in Valhalla, but someone else, Poseidon wouldn’t hesitate, even if you pleaded with him, an offense against you is greater than an offense against him and the only punishment is death. Even if he doesn’t show it (RBF), he does adore you, and never fails to make you feel loved and safe.

-Thor- You were a warrior to him, even if you weren’t one, wearing delicate and lacy clothes, looking like a beautiful little doll- you were a survivor, one who survived so much, and for that, for surviving, you were a warrior. Thor holds you in high respect, which is saying something because he doesn’t respect anyone who can’t beat him, except Odin. Thor was your knight, for you and you alone, he protects you because you are important to him, willing to raze Valhalla itself if he felt like you were in danger. He was a gentleman with you, holding your hand or carrying you everywhere, escorting you, making sure he was always by your side so nothing bad never happens to you again. Thor held you close when you finally told him of your past, the reason behind your scars, the culprits not in Valhalla, as they weren’t worthy, and Thor swore to you that he would always protect you, you would always be safe around him, and all he wanted in return was your love, all for himself.

-Beelzebub- You looked like polar opposites, your soft and delicate dresses, paired with the perfect accessories each day, looking like his beautiful little doll, while he was dark and brooding. Beelzebub adored you, you always looked so soft, so innocent- but he knew better, he knew that you had faced hell and survived, showing your strength, one he admired. Adored you but initially kept you at an arms distance, not wanting his curse to take over and kill you- he would never forgive himself and he wouldn’t stop trying to kill himself if that happened. He wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of snuffing out your gentle light. Once Beelzebub realized that you were the one exception to his curse, something he was trying to figure out himself, he immediately rushed to you, holding you close, making up for lost time. Adores you, stares at you as if you hung the stars in the sky for him and him alone, and worships the ground at your feet- you were his salvation and he wasn’t going to let you go- he wasn’t going to lose you to anyone, and because of that, he did everything he could to make you happy and keep you happy- keep you by his side. He wasn’t going to let you go.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror thor #ror beelzebub

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starogeorgina · 9 months

Text

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/ OC

Warnings: Swearing, character death

1.07

You were surprised to find Alicent waiting for you just outside the dragon pit when you returned to the keep. She has a furious expression on her face. You were glad Harwin insisted on travelling back to the keep by boat instead of dragon back. “Queen Alicent,” you curtsied. You didn’t particularly like her, but you always gave her respect as Queen. “What is wrong?”

“What is wrong? You’ve been gone for months! The king has been beside himself with worry since you returned to Dragonstone.”

“Worrying my father is the last thing I wish to do, but It didn’t seem right to leave Dragonstone so soon after what happened, your Grace. Good men died while protecting our dragons; the least I could do is stand by them.”

Your father's council had declared Arthur Weststar a lone madman; neither you nor Daemon believed this, but with Otto whispering in the king's ear, it was hard to convince him otherwise. Since then, Otto had been fired from the hand of the king, and Lord Lyonel Strong had replaced him. You had remained on Dragonstone, only arriving back on the morning the celebrations for Rhaenyra’s wedding began.

Alicent’s eyes start to become glossy. “I understand wanting to remain loyal to those who protect you.”

You felt bad for her; Alicent was just a young girl, just as you were, forced her into marrying someone before she was ready. You sympathised with how lonely it can feel, and in a way, she’s now lost her father. You clasp your hand over hers and say, “I’m loyal to House Targaryen, and that includes you and my siblings.”

She gulps down and quietly says, “Thank you, princess; your kind words mean a great deal to me. But I must tell you there have been troubling tales surrounding why you returned to Dragonstone.”

Your face heats up. “Forgive me your grace, but I’m unaware of what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently you have been fucking Daemon.”

Disgust is the only word you can think of to describe how you feel after hearing those words. Ew. You loved your uncle very much, but not once had the thought of even kissing him crossed your mind. “I can assure you that is nothing more than a venomous lie. I admire and respect my uncle, but there is nothing further from the truth.”

“I believe you,” she says, clearing her throat. “Have you spoken much to Rhaenyra recently?”

“We have been exchanging ravens, mainly talking about our dragons or her wedding. I do believe Laenor Velaryon is an excellent match.”

Alicent remains quiet for a moment, and when she finally speaks, she asks, “When was the last time you spoke to Daemon?”

“He left Dragonstrone a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did he tell you where he was going?” Alicent’s knuckles were turning white from gripping the fabric on her sleeves so tightly.

“No,” you confirm. “My uncle just told me he was leaving; that is all.”

“Very well, I think it’s best we start to prepare for the celebrations.”

You bow your head. Alicent turns on her heels and leaves, with two knights close behind her. Something about the conversation that just transpired didn’t sit right; although she was asking about you and Daemon, you had a feeling it was more about your sister.

—

“Sister!” Rhaenyra says excitedly as you enter her quarters.

Skilled handmaidens delicately place small sparkling rubies in her hair, which was braided in an elaborate up-do. It blended beautifully with her white gown with gold embellishments. If this was her outfit for the welcome feast, you could only imagine how magical she’ll look on her actual wedding day.

“You look beautiful.”

Her face lights up. “Thank you. I know you have a selection of gowns, but I had the seamstress make one for you especially.”

One of her handmaidens brings forward a black gown made of silk with a vibrant red cloak that has dragons sown into it. The gown has a v-neck with long sleeves that have gold embroidery at the cuffs.

You reach out and your fingers glide along the smooth fabric, tears springing to your eyes when you let go. “It’s stunning, thank you.”

Seeing your eyes start to well up, your sister orders everyone else to leave the room. “Vaella, what is wrong?”

“I just wish our mother was here; she’d be so proud of you.”

“Don’t,” Rhaenyra begins to fan at her face, “you’ll make me cry, and this is supposed to be a happy day. So let’s change the subject while you get dressed.”

“I’ll ask the handmaidens to come back.”

“I will help you get dressed so that it’s just us two, and we can catch up.”

By the time your gown was on and fitted properly, Rhaenyra had filled you in on Daemon leaving her at a brothel, her sleeping with Ser Criston Cole, and the arrangement made between her and Ser Laenor. Truth be told, you were jealous that she was married to someone so understanding; even if she and Laenor didn’t love each other in a romantic sense, you had a strong feeling they would still have an incredible friendship.

“What about you, sister? Was there any other reason why you remained in Dragonstone for six weeks, aside from avoiding Thomas, of course?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. You weren’t sure how Rhaenyra would take your confession; she might think you were being foolish. “I stayed because I wanted to be happy; of course I missed you and my father, but being on the island I felt at peace, and I was even happier because I had Harwin by my side.”

She raises her brows. “Your sworn protector, Ser Harwin Strong?”

You nod.

“I guess we both have a thing for fine knights.”

You look up at your sister and smile as she stands behind you and begins brushing your hair. “I love him, Rhaenyra, in a way that I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“Does he feel the same way?”

“I think so; we haven’t said the actual words to each other because once we do, everything changes.”

She kisses the crown of your head and says, “Then I believe you made the right choice by staying in Dragonstone.”

—

It amazed you how many houses had turned up just for the feast before the official wedding celebrations began. You are seated between Lord Lyonel Strong and your uncle Daemon, who had turned up fashionably late. You were desperate to know what plans he had set in motion for Ely's house, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

Anger simmered beneath the surface of your skin. Queen Alicent had made a mockery of your house by arriving late and wearing a gown the same shade of green as the Hightowers beacon that glows when Oldtown calls its banners to war. It was an insult to the Targaryen name.

From your chair, you look over at Ser Harwin. It was hard for you to stay away from him, but it was best not to be seen as inseparable while at court. But as the night progresses, you can't take your eyes off him. He may be sitting beside his brother not far from you, but you can't shake the gnawing in your gut that if you look away for one second, he'll evaporate into thin air.

You had a sense something bad was going to happen for a while, but your dreams were vague and hard to piece together.

Beside you, Daemon arches his back, and his spine cracks. “Care to dance, niece?”

You accept his hand and follow his lead to the dance floor. You notice his gaze is on Lady Laena as he twirls you around. “She’s pretty.”

“So is her brother.”

The next song that plays is one that requires you to change partners. You dance with a few different lords, and just as the song ends, Harwin takes your hand in his. He holds onto it tightly while placing his other hand on your lower back as slower-paced music begins to fill the room.

“I trust your journey back was well.”

You fall into his voice as he tells you of his travels back to the keep. Harwin once told you he was terrified of drowning, which is why he usually avoided open water unless absolutely necessary. His laugh pulls you from your fixated trance. “It seems fairly safe compared to travelling on dragon back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Varos.”

He pulls you in closer and quietly says, “No, but my feelings for his rider do.”

Deep down, you knew this thing between you would never last when you returned to the keep, not unless something changed. You didn't want to confess your true feelings to him just yet; you wanted to at least wait until the wedding celebrations were over before you could figure out how to make it work.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder. “Might I cut in?”

You grimace upon seeing Thomas standing beside you. You had managed to avoid him so far. You fight the urge to smirk, thinking how pissed he must be that Rhaenyra requested he not dine at the top table with the rest of your family.

Not being able to refuse him, Harwin nods and says, “Lord Thomas, princess.”

You feel as if bugs are crawling beneath your skin when you take Thomas’s hand in yours to dance. His tone is biting as he says, “I know what he means to you, Vaella, but you are my wife, not his.”

“Ah yes, your wife, who will one day be a pawn in your game and produce a male heir just for you to try and usurp her sister with.”

Thomas seems unfazed that you knew about his plan. He says nothing and tilts his head back to where Ser Joffrey Lonmouth and Ser Criston Cole are talking. “I’ve just had a conversation with Joffrey; it appears he had a lot of information about your sister and her sworn protector.” Thomas grips your face tightly; he forces a smile so onlookers would think it was just a tender moment between man and wife. His voice is dark and threatening. “I guess being a whore runs in the family.”

“Better to be a whore than a Lannister.”

He smirks, “It’s such a shame what happened to Ser Harwin; not to worry though, I’ll do better next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time, I’ll hire someone better than a fucking Weststar to carry out a simple task.”

You spit in his face, “Traitors cunt.”

Before Thomas can reply, a sharp scream pierces the room, and all hell breaks loose. He lets go of you to see what is going on; you see a flash of short silver hair. At the same time, a knight of the king's guard grabs hold of you and escorts you to the table where your father is standing up, watching as chaos erupts in the centre of the great hall as the lord and ladies, who were dancing moments prior, push and shove each other, many of them falling to the ground.

Your eyes scan the hall, looking for any sign of Rhaenyra. She had disappeared into the crowd of frightened people. “Where’s my sister?” You ask one of the knights, “Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra!”

A horrified shriek fills the room, but it’s from the opposite direction of where the main gathering is. Your father gripped your shoulder tightly; he was afraid. He looks to the knights standing behind the table and says, “Go find my daughter!”

“There! The princess is over there!” Alicent says, pointing at Rhaenyra, that she was backing away from something. When she lets out a loud scream, you push your way through the crowd to get to her, ignoring the calls for you to come back.

Just as you’re about to reach her, an arm reaches around your waist, holding you back. Harwin pulls you back. “Trust me, princess, you don’t want to see what’s down there.”

“What’s happened?”

“Ser Joffrey Lonmouth is dead,” he says, clearing his throat. “So is Thomas Lannister; he’s been killed.”

“Killed? How?”

“He was stabbed multiple times.”

You step back from Harwin to look at Rhaenyra and see your uncle comforting her. You and Daemon lock eyes, and the small nod he gives you is confirmation that he’s the one who killed Thomas.

A sickening knot twisted in your gut.

You turn to the side and vomit after experiencing a sudden pain in your stomach and wave of nausea. You hated Thomas, but the reality of what you had set in motion sank in. Rhaenyra rushes to your side, rubbing your back with one hand and holding your hair back with another. When you look up, Daemon is gone.

It was just another secret for you to keep.

—

The chill of the night's air bites at your exposed hands as you sit beneath the godswood, looking up at the sky and tracing the stars with your eyes. After the chaos during the feast, your father thought it was best for Rhaenyra and Laenor to marry as soon as possible, which they did in a small ceremony with just family present.

“Princess, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I was worried when you hadn’t returned to your chamber.” Harwin says as he marches towards you that when you don’t reply, he kneels at your level, reaching for your hand. “Vaella, at some point we need to talk about what has been going on. I know a lot has happened tonight, but I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll remain by your side no matter what happens next.”

You sigh, “I love you too.”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eye?”

“I need to see a maester.” Looking back, you should have realised that things had changed much sooner than now. You lower your head to look at Harwin as tears roll down your cheeks. “I think I’m pregnant.”

#house of the dragon #ser harwin strong x you #sir harwin #ser harwin strong fanfiction #ser harwin strong #ser harwin breakbones #Ser Harwin Strong/you #harwin strong fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon fanfic #broken bonds #ser harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x oc

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